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JOLITA OF THE 
JUNGLE 

A STORY OF THE BUSH PEOPLE 


BY 

ALICE FESSENDEN PETERSON 

n 


WITH OVER FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY THE AUTHOR 


BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 

CHICAGO 


c.\°i 




?Zi 

, 1^443 

Jo 

oopyv- 


Copyright, 1929, by 
Beckley-Cardy Company 

All rights reserved 


C. • 04- 

T)jai3D 


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Printed in the United States of America 


JUL -3 « 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

The Jungle Country. 7 

I. Marvels of the Jungle. 9 

II. The Stone Images. 29 

III. The Army Ants. 47 

IV. The Indian. 64 

V. Days of Bondage. 84 

VI. The Ancient Ruins. 100 

VII. Hunting Orchids. 120 

VIII. The Earthquake. 138 

IX. Ramon. 157 

X. The Underground Passage . 177 

Vocabulary . 194 


5 














LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Jolita. Frontispiece 

Pablo the Parrot. 11 

Ramon . 18 

The Howler Monkeys. 25 

The Snake Stone. 27 

The Army Ants. 53 

“The Toucans Barked Like Puppies ’ 9 . 68 

Miguel the Indian. 74 

Manuel Mendoza. 91 

The Jungle Stream. 95 

Reproductions of Ancient Ruins. 114 

The Stone Image.128 

An Ancient Sculptured Stone.130 

The Peristeria Elata. 147 

Orchid Nanodes Medusae. 151 

Trinkets Found in the Ruins. 174 

The Feathered Snake. 185 

“Countless Bats Streamed into the Tunnel”. 187 


6 




















THE JUNGLE COUNTRY 

Midway between the two continents of North 
and South America lies a country that is largely 
unknown to most of us. It is called Central 
America. Mexico borders it on the north and 
Panama on the south. Its climate is tropical and 
a considerable portion of it is trackless wilder¬ 
ness where live strange and fierce wild creatures 
peculiar to the tropics. 

The people of Central America are similar to 
Mexicans in complexion and speech. There is a 
considerable population of Indians, many of 
whom are descendants of a great race of people, 
the Mayans, who lived and flourished there thou¬ 
sands of years ago. These Mayans built wonder¬ 
ful cities, fine paved roads, magnificent stone 
temples, lofty pyramids of cut stone, great courts 
and plazas adorned with marvelous carved and 
painted w^all decorations. 

The ruins of these beautiful cities of ancient 
times are slowly being dug out of the jungles 
where they have been buried and forgotten for 
untold centuries. The people who lived in them, 
whose civilization reached as high as that of the 
ancient Egyptians, were the earliest known 
Americans. Each year the reports grow of the 
amazing discoveries made in this locality by vari¬ 
ous scientific expeditions from northern univer- 


7 


8 


The Jungle Country 


sities sent there to explore and excavate these 
historic monuments. 

It was my privilege to make an extended visit 
in Panama several years ago. During this time I 
was able to take a number of trips up into the 
jungle country where settlements are few and 
where the dangers to human life are many. 

Here in one of the little jungle villages I found 
“Jolita.” I entered her primitive little home 
and saw her shelf-bed. I observed the daily life 
of her people, their customs, their amusements 
and their surroundings. The life of the hush 
people is practically the same in the jungles of 
all Central America. So I moved Jolita and her 
community a little further north into the country 
of the ancient Mayans, in the development of my 
story. 

And if, in this simple narrative, I have suc¬ 
ceeded in arousing an interest among school chil¬ 
dren in the history of the earliest Americans, as 
well as the teeming, wonderful creature-life of 
the tropical wilderness, the effort will be well 
worth while. 


The Author 


JOLITA OF THE JUNGLE 


CHAPTER I 

MARVELS OF THE JUNGLE 

I T was midday in the steaming Central Ameri¬ 
can jungle. Not a creature stirred in the 
stifling heat. Even the insects were drowsy and 
their sleepy drone was scarcely audible. The air 
was heavy with a sickly odor of rotting leaves 
and decaying vegetation and the spongy soil ra¬ 
diated hot waves from the overlying tangles of 
jungle flotsam. 

A huge dead tree stood bleakly in the forest 
with a riot of greenery surrounding it. Its great 
heart, that once had throbbed with vigorous life, 
was now a yawning, black cavern. In its shaded 
depths a small, brown, bush child, about eight 
years of age, w T as curled up, sound asleep, with 
her fluffy red head pillowed on her chubby arm. 

With the canny knowledge of jungle folk, the 
girl had chosen for her nap an elevated couch 
made of twisted creeper cables that had erected 
themselves in the middle of the tree hollow. The 
seepage of water from the rains into the en¬ 
closure had formed a little pool around the rude 
9 


10 Jolita of the Jungle 

dais, thus preventing the invasions of annoying 
ants. 

The child’s tousled hair made an odd hit of 
color in the picture. It was an unfortunate pos¬ 
session for her, as its hue, doubtless a heritage 
from an alien ancestor, had brought upon her 
many taunts from the woolly-headed, negroid 
bush people of whom she was one. 

Beside the child, perched on a vine loop that 
spanned the enclosure, sat a brilliant green par¬ 
rot with his head tucked under his wing. 

It was the wet season in the tropical country 
and for several hours each day the rain drenched 
the land. A storm was even now approaching. 
The sky suddenly darkened and from a.distance 
rose a low, humming sound that came gradually 
nearer, as a liquid curtain swept across the forest. 

The parrot lifted his head from his wing and 
blinked sleepily, as the first spatter struck the 
tree trunk. The girl sighed heavily, turned over, 
and slumbered on serenely. It mattered not to 
her if the heavens opened and the floods de¬ 
scended. Rain had no terrors for little Jolita. 
She had never worn clothes. The climate was so 
hot where she lived that she did not need them, 
and custom among her people did not require 
them for small children. Never had her mop of 



Pablo the Parrot 













12 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


auburn hair been brushed, nor was she troubled 
with any of the restrictions of civilization. She 
was a child of nature enjoying a comfortable, 
midday nap. 

A blinding flash of lightning split the dusk of 
the tree hollow where the little girl was sleeping. 
It was followed by a deafening crash of tropical 
thunder that shook the forest. Jolita sat up sud¬ 
denly, aroused by the noise. 

“Whee-e-e! that was a big one, Pablo!” she 
exclaimed. “I wonder if it struck near?” 

The parrot cocked a round eye upward and 
ruffled his feathers with a little shake of his body. 
His gaze was fixed with apparent disapproval on 
a collection of curious little creatures that hung 
by their wing hooks upside down, hundreds of 
them, high up in the decaying heart of the dead 
tree. The constant flicker of the lightning lit the 
gloom of their retreat and an alarmed movement 
began to spread among them. 

Jolita laughed and craned her neck to watch 
the groups of jungle bats as they pushed and 
crowded each other with squeaks and vicious 
clicks of their tiny teeth. 

“Hoo-hoo!” she mocked, “you don’t like that 
lightning, do you? See, Pablo, there’s a little 
mother-bat with her baby. She’s got him all 


Marvels of the Jungle 13 

wrapped up in her skinny wings. Oh-h! aren’t 
they ugly ?” 

In the closely packed clusters nearest the 
opening of the cavern the queer, leathery wings 



Sleeping Bat 


were drawn aside to reveal hideous little impish 
faces, with big round ears, glittering, beadlike 
black eyes and a grotesque, erect growth like an 
extra ear on the tip of each blunt little nose. 
Many lost their hold in the scramble and fell with 
wild flops and whining squeaks down beside Jo- 
lita at the bottom of the tree. She shrank from 


14 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


the touch of their cold, scratchy little feet and 
uttered a shriek of disgust. 

“Go ’way, don’t you touch me!” she squealed. 
“I don’t like you at all, you bats. You smell 
queer, too! Go hack to bed. The storm is over. ’ 1 

She sprang outside and stood watching the bats 
as they painfully tried to crawl back to their 
perches, awkwardly 
staggering and stum¬ 
bling over their own 
wings and hooking at 
anything that offered 
support. 

“Little bat-mother 

“Aren’t They Ugly?” with the baby,” she 
called, peering up into 
the interior of the hollow, “you can go to sleep 
again. Adios. They are cunning things, if they 
are ugly,” she remarked to herself, as she noted 
the care with which the little hat-mother again 
enfolded her baby and composed herself for 
slumber. 

“Come on, Pablo, we’ll go to our play rock and 
look for more treasures. ’ ’ She held up her finger, 
her pet flew down upon it and they started into 
the dripping forest together. 

The patter of moisture from the shower 



Marvels of the Jungl< 


15 


sounded on every side. As the sun came out from 
behind the clouds the drops that quivered from 
every leaf and twig were turned to radiant, flash¬ 
ing jewels by the beams of sunlight through the 
foliage. Jolita stopped and gazed about her, en¬ 
tranced by the beauty of the scene. 



Flying Bat 


“O Pablo!” she cried, “isn’t it pretty! Isn’t 
it pretty! I do love to see the flowers and leaves 
shine like that! I love the rain. Everything 
loves the rain. See how the ferns drink it in!” 

She stooped to part the underbrush at the foot 
of a tree, but jumped back quickly as the parrot 
gave a warning squawk. His keen eyes had de¬ 
tected a slender, gleaming head upreared from 
the matted undergrowth. The bird had also seen 
a human head rising above the bushes a short 
distance away. 

As Jolita hastily sprang aside, the foliage be- 


16 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


hind her was thrust apart and from a native bow 
held by two brown hands an arrow whizzed, im¬ 
paling the mottled snake that had been hunt¬ 
ing for lizards at the foot of the tree. The girl 
whirled around and confronted a boy somewhat 
older than herself. Her face darkened and she 
scowled fiercely as the boy brushed through the 
bushes and came to inspect his victim. 

“It’s you again, is it, Ramon Mendoza?” she 
cried angrily, stamping her foot. “Why do you 
follow me ? Why do you kill when it is needless ? 
I hate you, cruel boy! The snake would not have 
harmed me. He was hunting his dinner and I 
got a little too near. Anyway, Pablo told me he 
was there.” 

“Oh, Pablo told you, did he?” scoffed the boy, 
striding to the spot where the reptile was writh¬ 
ing, pinned by the head to a projecting root of the 
tree. 

“You think that snake would not have harmed 
you? Look there at the shape of his head. 
That’s a poisonous tomagoff, girl; you should 
know that.” The boy despatched the creature 
with the bow in his hand. 

Jolita flew into a rage. Her hair stood up on 
her head in a ruddy halo and she hopped up and 
down like an angry little monkey. 


Marvels of the Junglt 


17 


“Ah-h-k!” she screamed, darting at him and 
striking him with her doubled-up fists, “it is no 
tomagoff! It is a harmless tree-snake—see its 
thin tail ? I tell you it is harmless, yet you kill it, 
you bad boy, you!” 

Scratching him fiercely with her nails, the 
child burst into a flood of passionate tears. He 
shook her off roughly. 

“You little red-headed spitfire! I’ll cut your 
nails if 3^011 scratch me again! I’ll march you 
home and tell your father how I saved you from 
atomagoff!” 

Jolita’s heart nearly stopped beating at this 
terrible threat. It would mean the loss of the joy 
of her life, should she be forbidden the jungle. 
Without another word she took to her heels and 
ran off into the forest, followed by her parrot, 
who had taken refuge on a tree overhead during 
the quarrel. She raced headlong through the 
dense growth as only a child of the wilderness 
can run, stopping every few yards to listen for 
sounds of pursuit. 

The boy teasingly chased her for a short dis¬ 
tance, but soon gave it up and she presently 
moderated her pace. Following a faint trail 
worn by her own small, bare feet over the jungle 
floor, she thrust aside the loops of vines that in- 



Ramon- 





Marvels of the Jungle 


19 


terlaced the walls of green about her and hurried 
forward with the parrot, which she had called 
to her finger. 

“Now wasn’t he hateful, that Ramon!” 
scolded Jolita, as she trotted along through the 
forest. “He troubles me so much. I do not 
know why he does. I can take care of myself, 
with you to guard me, Pablo. He is so bad, so 
cruel! He hurts the poor little lizards that never 
do any harm and kills the pretty birds that sing 
so sweetly. I cannot stand it. If he keeps me 
from the forest, I shall die!” 

Jolita’s home was a one-room, palm-thatched 
bamboo hut in a tiny, native village beside a little 
winding river, deep in the wilderness. Her days 
were usually spent in the surrounding forest, 
where she passed many fascinating hours watch¬ 
ing the wild creatures she loved. She was one of 
a numerous family of children, natives of the 
Central American bush, but strangely different 
from them in every characteristic except her 
brown skin. 

Her intense love for the beauties of nature and 
the wild life of the jungle made her a being apart 
from her people; and her red hair, as uncommon 
among the jungle dwellers as white feathers on a 
blackbird, brought her many taunts and cruel 


20 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


jokes. Her brothers and sisters contented them¬ 
selves with idling about the tiny village or play¬ 
ing among the canoes hauled up on the banks of 
the river. They laughed at Jolita when she pro¬ 
tested at the common native cruelties, when they 
maimed lizards and pulled the wings from butter¬ 
flies. Their interest in the forest extended only 
as far as the edge of the settlement. 

Her superstitious, ignorant parents, scarcely 
more than animals themselves in intelligence, 
practically washed their hands of Jolita. She 
was too much of a problem for them to handle. 
Parental cares were carried lightly by the people 
of the tropical jungle and their numerous chil¬ 
dren as a rule were left to shift for themselves 
as soon as they were old enough to toddle alone. 
Indolence, born of the climatic heat, and the 
shiftlessness of their kind, contributed to Jolita’s 
freedom from restraint. Her family troubled 
themselves little about her comings and goings, 
provided she came home at nightfall. This was 
their only command. 

The dangers of the jungle at night, when the 
fiercest nocturnal prowlers hunted their prey, 
when great, constricting serpents lurked to strike 
unseen from the low tree branches, and savage 
jaguars ranged the forest, were well known to all 


21 


Marvels of the Jungle 

the sparse human population of the tropical wil¬ 
derness and none risked them if they could help 
it. 

In the daytime Jolita wandered about the 
woods as she chose, learning the ways of the wild 
things and how to avoid trouble from them; but 
she never failed to find her way back, like a hom¬ 
ing pigeon, before dark, and her adventures were 
many and often thrilling. 

After leaving Ramon Mendoza, a boy of the 
settlement whom she disliked, she pushed ahead 
rapidly until she came to the bed of a small 
stream that flowed slowly between shallow, fern- 
fringed banks. Here she turned abruptly to the 
left, diving through the undergrowth like a little 
brown wood sprite, with the parrot held carefully 
in front of her. 

She broke through a mat of vines and stepped 
into an open space where, encircled by clumps of 
bending palms and tall ferns, towered a great 
oval-shaped mound. On the top of it was a plat¬ 
form surrounded by a low wall, or parapet, about 
two feet high. 

Jolita bounded lightly up the creeper-clad side 
of the mound and seated herself on the parapet. 
The parrot hopped from his perch on her finger, 
settled himself comfortably near her and pro- 


22 


jolita of the Jungle 

ceeded to preen his soft green feathers. Scores 
of lizards, sunning themselves on the clay floor, 
scattered in fright at the appearance of the 
intruders. 

“Shoo!” cried Jolita, waving her arms and 
shuffling her bare feet at the holder ones who 
lingered. 

“Go ’way. This is my place— mine . You can 
go somewhere else to sun yourselves. ’ ’ She drew 
a long breath and rocked herself back and forth 
in supreme happiness. 

“Oh, I love it here, Pablo,” she said to the par¬ 
rot, who uttered a caressing little croak in answer 
as he busied himself with his feathers. 

“And nobody knows a thing about it but you 
and I,” she exulted. She rose and walked about 
the platform. 

“We can’t stay long to-day,” she said regret¬ 
fully. “We slept too long in the hollow tree. 
And Ramon said—”lier little face puckered with 
anxiety at the unpleasant thought of the boy’s 
threat. “The shadows are beginning to grow 
long and we must soon start back. We mustn’t 
be late. Come now,” she said to her pet, “see if 
you can find me something pretty like the one 
you found yesterday. Pablo,” she commanded, 
clapping her hands, “come quick; go find it!” 


Marvels of the Jungle 


23 


The parrot, who had been strutting back and 
forth on the parapet, having finished his toilet to 
his satisfaction, presently spread his wings as 
though aware of what was expected of him and 
flew down into the jungle just beyond the mound, 
where he was lost to sight for a moment. Pres¬ 
ently he came back with a curious, gleaming little 
object in his beak. 

4 i Give it to me, 77 clamored the child. 6 ‘ Pablo, 
come here; give me that. Oh, it is pretty and it 
makes a sweet sound , 77 she cried eagerly. The 
parrot deliberately stood on one foot and turned 
the glinting little object over with beak and claw, 
as though examining it. Jolita made a swift 
dive at the teasing bird and snatched the trinket 
from his grasp. It was a tiny hell of yellowish 
metal and when shaken gave forth a mellow little 
tinkle. The child shrieked with delight and 
danced about the platform shaking the hell and 
holding it up to the waning sunlight. 

‘ 4 Oh, I love it! I love it ! 7 7 she cried. ‘ ‘ I must 
go and look for myself to-morrow when we come 
again. There must be wonderful things down 
there. Now we’ll have to go. Oh dear, why did 
we waste time sleeping ? 77 

She ran to one side of the platform where a 
spreading, wild fig tree had split the masonry in 


24 Jolita of the Jungle 

its growth and made a gap in the wall. In a little 
pocket inside the breach she placed her treasure, 
together with a number of quaint little clay ob¬ 
jects which the parrot had brought her before, 
from some mysterious source beyond the mound. 

“Isn’t this a wonder¬ 
ful secret, Pablo? None 
of the others shall know 
a thing about it. But 
then I know that no one 
ever comes this far hut 
me,” she giggled excit¬ 
edly. “Even Ramon 
never came here, I am 
sure; and the little bush 
animals will not trouble 
us if we are careful not 
to make them angry. 
Come now, Pablo, we 

must go; come along.” 

Talking gaily to the bird, who flew obediently 
after her, Jolita climbed down the side of the 
mound over thickly-growing vines and plants. 
She had almost reached the ground when a weird 
sound from the distance came to her ears and she 
paused to listen. It was a long drawn note, high 
and clear at first, a thin, flutelike strain that soon 




The Howler Monkeys 






























26 


Jolita of the Jungle 


dropped to a deep, booming sound and died away 
in gruff mutterings. 

Again and again it rose and fell, to be 
answered close at hand by a chorus of voices, 
until the wilderness throbbed with the uncanny 
music which is unlike anything else vocal in the 
world. It never failed to thrill the child when¬ 
ever she heard it and she caught her breath in 
awe as she listened. 

‘ 4 The Howler monkeys are singing their night 
song,” she whispered, gazing upward into a giant 
tree near by that towered high above the jungle. 
In its dim, feathery top she could make out a 
strange group of animal forms sitting facing 
each other, mouths uplifted in the balmy, tropical 
twilight, as they uttered their fantastic evening 
chant. 

Jolita dared not linger. She poised herself for 
a great leap that landed her close to a clump of 
banana plants. She had never ventured farther 
than the mound, but to-day, prompted by a sud¬ 
den impulse, she ran forward, parted the glossy, 
broad leaves and peeped through. She uttered a 
stifled shriek of fright and amazement. Facing 
her, partly hidden in the vegetation, was a tall, 
leaning stone which, as she gazed at it, took shape 
before her astonished eyes as a strangely propor- 



The Snake Stone 























28 


Jolita of the Jungle 

tioned, upreared serpent of gigantic size. That 
part of the head which was visible above the 
undergrowth was covered with a semblance of 
feathers chiseled upon the stone surface. From 
the half-open mouth protruded a long tongue 
carved in sharp bas-relief upon the curved neck 
of the image. The deep eye-sockets, black with 
the accumulations of ages, seemed to glare threat¬ 
eningly as she stood for a moment staring at 
them in open-mouthed wonder. 

“Wh-wh-what is that?” she stuttered, a cold 
fear seizing her at the unexpected sight. She 
backed off a little, ready to fly on the instant, 
and then peeped through the leaves again to as¬ 
sure herself that it was only an image. But there 
was something appalling in the appearance of 
the huge, flat head with its wide nostrils and out¬ 
stretched, snakelike muzzle that leered at her, as 
it leaned over, apparently ready to come to life 
and spring at her in revenge for this invasion of 
its seclusion. Never in all her life had she 
imagined anything like it and she turned swiftly 
and fled homeward like a frightened deer. 


CHAPTER II 


THE STONE IMAGES 

f I ^ HE gray night mists were slowly lifting 
-*■ from the tree tops as Jolita awoke the next 
morning. She sat up cautiously on the narrow 
shelf made of bamboo strips laced together with 
lianas that served her as a bed in her primitive 
home. The rest of the small children were stowed 
away on similar shelves fastened up under the 
thatched roof of the shack. A few rags to lie on 
and pieces of burlap bagging to pull over them 
in the cool hours before dawn were all that was 
given them in the way of bedding, but they had 
never been used to anything else and their needs 
were satisfied. 

Soft-footed as a cat, Jolita climbed warily 
down the short bamboo ladder that gave access to 
her particular night nook. She was anxious not 
to disturb the other sleepers. 

Hammocks made of stout lianas knotted to¬ 
gether were hung from corner to corner of the 
earthen floor of the room, and on them, sprawled 
in various attitudes of profound sleep, were the 
older members of the family. No one stirred as 
29 


30 


Jolita of the Jungle 

she crept to a corner of the room and scooped 
with her fingers a few mouthfuls of cold cooked 
rice from a large clay dish—the family morning 
meal, of which each would partake similarly 
when they wished. The dish was set in a basin of 
water for protection from ants. Pablo was wait¬ 
ing for her outside and flew to greet her with his 
odd little whistle, as she slipped noiselessly away 
from the hut. 

Apparently no one was stirring in the settle¬ 
ment. The jungle people lived easy lives and the 
morning mists were usually avoided by them. 
There was no sign of Ramon to trouble her and 
the child skipped away into the bushes unmo¬ 
lested. A few minutes of swift traveling took 
Jolita and her pet into the deep wilderness, where 
she paused to get her breath and gaze about her. 

Streaks of yellow in the sky told of the coming 
of the sun. As the shadows melted from the 
ground most of the tree trunks revealed wrap¬ 
pings of immense cobwebs, dotted with drops of 
dew from the heavy night moisture. There were 
thousands of these cobwebs, many of them 
draped fantastically between the branches of the 
trees, some of them so thick as to resemble silken 
sheeting. 

The growing light revealed a host of tropical 


The Stone Images 


31 


spiders sitting about in sheltered places, where 
they could catch unwary insects. There were blue 
spiders and brilliant scarlet specimens. Others 
wore shields of burnished copper and had long 
legs of shining gold color—creatures of regal 
hues. On a great gossamer mat crouched a big 
orange and black individual. 

“Pretty lady,” said Jolita caressingly, walk¬ 
ing up to it and wagging her little brown finger 
at it. She loved the harmless spiders and often 
watched them spin their wonderful webs. But 
the yellow-and-black lady did not like the famil¬ 
iarity and bounced angrily up and down on her 
mat, swinging it vigorously by the weight of her 
own plump body. 

The parrot did not approve of the interest 
his mistress took in spiders and warned her with 
uneasy little grumbles in his throat, his eyes fixed 
on an odd looking, gray-swathed hole in the 
ground just beyond where the girl was standing. 
She had learned the wisdom and timeliness of 
these warnings and quietly hid behind a screen of 
branches. 

It was well that she did so for in a moment 
there appeared from the hole a dread shape that 
sent all the smaller spiders scurrying to their 
various refuges in the underbrush. 


32 


Jolita of the Jungle 



“O Pablo, look at that spider! What a mon¬ 
ster !” whispered Jolita, peeping from behind 
the protecting leaves. “Now wliat is he up to, 
I wonder?” she muttered. “Some mischief, I 
know. Let us watch and see what he does.” 

She gazed at 
the creature, as it 
leisurely crossed 
a short space to a 
tree trunk and 

The Spider , , , . , 

began to climb 
upward. There was something uncommonly re¬ 
pulsive in its appearance. The eight thick, hairy 
legs covered a surface considerably larger than 
one’s hand. The little red eyes glared fiercely 
and the heavy, round body 
bristled with stiff black hairs like 
those that covered the loathsome 
legs. Steadily it mounted the 
tree. Jolita gave a little cry. 

4 ‘ Ah, I see what he’s after. It’s 
baby birds in a nest. Oh, the poor 
little things! He will pull them 
out of the nest and eat them; oh 
dear, oh dear! and I can’t help 
them! Poor father- and mother-bird, how they 
scream and flutter and try to scare him away!” 



The Wasp 


The Stone Images 


33 


A shrill outcry and flapping of wings had 
greeted the marauder, as he neared the helpless 
nestlings. Jolita looked about hastily for some¬ 
thing to throw at him. 

She dared not get too near, for she knew the 
danger of a bite from a spider of this species. 
She knew also that it could jump like a cat. Sud¬ 
denly she ceased her search as she heard a low, 
droning sound from the bushes beyond. 

“Aha!” she exclaimed, “listen to that! You 
horrid thing, something’s going to happen to you 
right away and I’m glad of it!” 

As the buzzing sound came nearer the spider 
turned and raced swiftly down the tree toward 
his lair in the ground. But quick as he was, his 
approaching enemy was quicker. There was not 
time for him to get under cover. As soon as he 
reached the ground he rolled over on his back to 
defend himself, his hairy legs stiff and tense and 
his wide-open fangs ready for the attack. 

“Now we’ll see something, indeed,” laughed 
J olita gleefully. “It’s the big blue wasp with the 
long sting and it’s going to be a fight; I hope 
she’ll get him, too, the cruel eater of little birds! 
Watch now, Pablo,” to the parrot, who was sit¬ 
ting gravely beside her on a branch eyeing the 
scene, his head cocked wisely sideways. 


34 


Jolita of the Jungh 


The great wasp swooped back and forth over 
the prostrate body of her prey, each time darting 



The Fight 


a little nearer and constantly sounding her battle 
buzz. The spider tried desperately to edge little 
by little toward his hole in the ground, but the 
flashing dips of the wasp prevented the ruse. Her 
long, slender wings showed glints of coppery red 
and her blue armor glistened, as she circled about, 
awaiting her chance to sting him. 

It was a thrilling contest. Each time she 
“zipped,” the great fangs of the spider struck 
upward and the wasp boomed spitefully as she 
dodged and doubled. The end came suddenly. A 






The Stone Images 


35 


dash and a twist caught the spider off his guard 
and the slender weapon reached its goal. 

“Bcistante!” exclaimed Jolita, stepping from 
her hiding-place and backing oft cautiously, so as 
not to disturb the victor. “That’s good! I was 
sure she’d get him! Do you know what she’ll do 
with him now, Pablo? She’ll poison him just 
enough so that he’ll never move again. Then 
she’ll bite off some of his big, thick legs so he 
won’t be so heavy, and after that she’ll carry him 
away to her nest in the ground. She will push 
him down into the hole and lay a lot of eggs in 
his fat old body. And he’ll stay that way, just 
alive enough to be good for the wasp-babies to 
eat when they hatch out. They’ll finish him off 
and that will be the end of him. I know that’s 
so, Pablo, because I’ve seen the big, blue wasps 
do this before. And once I dug a wasp’s nest out 
of the ground and there were the wasp babies 
having dinner! I say, it’s good enough for him! 
He doesn’t need to eat little birds. There are 
plenty of bugs in the bush.” 

The parrot, always an attentive listener to her 
remarks, had resumed his perch on her finger as 
they again took up the trail. Her goal was the 
alluring mound, the place of the mysterious 
treasures which now had the added interest of the 


36 


Jolita of the Jungl< 



“The Jungle Was Full of Mysteries” 


stone snake. It called lier with a force she could 
not resist. Although startled as never before by 
the unexpected encounter, she felt an overwhelm¬ 
ing desire to gaze again at the strange object. 

The jungle was full of mysteries, of terror and 
sudden death. With childish unconcern she ac- 








The Stone Images 


37 


cepted the dangers. Existence here meant con¬ 
tact with constant warfare among the forest 
creatures, the stronger preying upon the weaker. 
The tragedies were pitiful and wrung her tender 
heart. She was always helping some unfor¬ 
tunate little creature that was in trouble. It was 
part of her life. She too, she well knew, might 
some time get into trouble. In her wise little 
head she knew the constant risks, although she 
seemed to bear a charmed life. 

But these strange discoveries in the trackless 
forest, man-made without a doubt, entirely unac¬ 
countable, and unknown to any of her people 
(she was sure of that as no one had ever spoken 
of them), filled her with unwonted excitement. 

Nervous and wakeful she had lain many hours 
on her bamboo sleeping-shelf, thinking of her 
wonderful experience. Who had put those 
strange things there? What were they for? 
What lay beyond? No human inhabitants lived 
in those inner wastes. Everybody in her little 
world knew that. What then did those trinkets 
and the mound and image mean ? 

Instinctively she had kept her secret to herself. 
The possession of it was a new and delightful sen¬ 
sation to the simple jungle child. Especially 
must she keep it from Ramon Mendoza. It 


38 


Jolita of the Jungle 

would spoil everything if lie knew it. On no 
account must the hoy, whom she considered her 
particular enemy, be permitted to follow her to 
the magic place, her place, by right of discovery. 

As she pressed forward, threading her way 
skilfully through the masses of vegetation, she 
stopped every few yards, for an instant, to scan 
the underbrush, her sharp eyes ever alert for a 
possible attack. She knew well that thousands 
of little eyes were watching her from invisible 
hiding-places, from the leafy roof above her head, 
from the heavy undergrowth all about her, ready 
to resent and avenge any carelessness on her part. 

She could hear the stealthy stir of covert move¬ 
ment that might mean an instant charge, should 
she make a misstep. But the little feet pressed 
lightly; nothing had ever harmed her and she 
flitted on her way like a butterfly of the woods. 

She reached the brook which was her guiding 
line to the mound. She peered ahead through the 
foliage and glimpsed a huge lizard racing swiftly 
along the bank with head and tail held weirdly 
erect. The reptile, nearly four feet in length, 
was visible only a few moments and then darted 
into a thicket. Jolita uttered a peal of laughter. 

“ You’d think he was a terrible creature, with 
his long tail like a crocodile, and all the pointed 


The Stone Images 


39 


spikes on his back, and his ugly head, but he can’t 
tight a bit—the poor old ‘guana!’ He can only 
lash with his tail when he wants to protect him¬ 
self. And what a jumper he is! When some¬ 
thing scares him, he takes one long leap from the 
tree, up there where he lives, right to the ground. 



The Iguana 


It makes such a noise! You’d think it would 
smash him to strike the ground so hard. He 
ought to have wings like you, Pablo mio; yes? 
My mother would like ’guana to make stew for 
dinner. Me, I don’t like ’guana stew,” she 
added disgustedly, “the others say it tastes like 
chicken. I don’t think so. Too snaky!” 

A huge mango tree full of ripe fruit overhung 





40 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


the bed of the stream. Jolita reached up to a low 
branch and plucked a mango. She stood for a 
few moments peeling the luscious fruit and 
munching it. The parrot regaled himself also 
and vigorously scolded some greedy little parra- 
keets who disputed his right to them. 

The forest rang with the songs of birds; insects 
hummed and shimmered in the wavering shafts 
of sunlight; great blue and yellow butterflies flut¬ 
tered in and out of the underbrush like winged 
jewels, their gorgeous colors scintillating in the 
changing light. It was a beautiful spot and the 
child drew a long breath of rapture. She lifted 
her little brown arms to the faint breeze that 
drifted through the wilderness, bringing with it 
sweet odors of budding jungle flowers and ripen¬ 
ing fruit. The colorful scene filled her with su¬ 
preme happiness. Life seemed joyously com¬ 
plete to little Jolita of the jungle. 

She whistled to Pablo as she turned and dove 
nimbly under the bending branches that over¬ 
hung the stream, snatching at a mass of red-flow¬ 
ering vine as she ran. The heat steadily in¬ 
creased with the rising of the sun and Jolita 
made haste to get to the mound. 

When she reached the vicinity she hesitated, 
walked slowly and carefully, listening intently, 


41 


The Stone Images 

lier eyes constantly searching the underbrush in 
every direction. 

The feeling of fear for the unknown returned 
in full force as she reached the foot of the mound 
and passed within the zone of the mysteries. 
Just beyond the banana palms, over there, the 
strange stone creature was waiting—waiting. 

She shook off her growing panic, resolutely 
climbed to the platform and sat down on the 
parapet to stare about her and listen. The bird 
songs had diminished toward noontime. 

With every sense quickened the child sat mo¬ 
tionless as a statue awaiting she knew not what. 
There seemed to be something tense in the air 
and she scarcely dared move. 

There came a flutter of wings and a friendly 
croak from Pablo, as he flew down beside her and 
walked back and forth. She waited a few min¬ 
utes longer to assure herself that nothing imme¬ 
diate threatened and then she arose and went to 
get her treasures from the hole in the wall. She 
ranged them in a row and examined them anew. 
They were an odd collection of quaint little forms 
made of clay. One of these, shaped like a small 
bird with a long tail for a handle, was hollow and 
contained bits of metal or stone that rattled 
when the object was shaken. Another resembled 


42 


Jolita of the Jungle 

a tiny deg and was made of the same dull yellow 
material as the little hell. 

“Go find me some more pretties, Pablo; I want 
ever so many more.” But the parrot was feast- 



Jolita’s “Pretties ’’ 


ing in the branches of a fruit-laden wild fig tree, 
close at hand. 

“Well then, bring me a fig,” commanded Jo¬ 
lita. But the bird paid no attention. Again she 
turned toward the place of mysteries and stood 
motionless for several minutes, summoning up 
courage to explore the region beyond the mound 
whose secrets were irresistible. Then, with a 
quick motion, she swept her treasures from the 
parapet, ran to the hole in the wall, stowed them 
away and climbed down to the ground. 



The Stone Images 


43 


She advanced to the banana clump and peeped 
through, pushing aside the long, bright-green, 
silky leaves. The grim serpent head, standing 
in the jungle, seemed to have acquired a spread¬ 
ing, black feather headdress since last she gazed 
at it. As she stared in wonderment the black 
topknot erected itself slowly, lifted a huge pair 
of wings and revealed the head of an immense 
buzzard, which emitted a vicious hiss at sight of 
her. 

Jolita stood stock-still, her eyes fixed on the 
bird of ill omen. The jungle had suddenly be¬ 
come breathlessly quiet. Not a sound broke the 
sinister hush. It seemed as though all the jungle 
creatures had paused to watch the child enter 
this No Man’s land. 

The threatening attitude of the black bird im¬ 
pressed her as a warning and she turned and ran 
back a few yards. Trembling with excitement 
she crouched down for concealment in case of 
further hostilities. A long pause and then to her 
sensitive ears came a single high note from away 
back in the forest. It was like the sound of metal 
struck by metal, ringing sweet as a silver bell, 
the cry of the campanero bird. It appeared to 
break the spell. 

In a moment she heard the flapping of huge 


44 


Jolita of the Jungle 

wings and caught a glimpse of a great, black 
form swinging off over the tree tops. The child 
stole hack to her point of observation beside the 
banana clump. The bird was gone. The stone 
creature glared at her, but she regarded it now 
with renewed courage. Why should she be afraid 
of it ? It was only a stone after all. It could not 
move nor harm her. 

The parrot flew by her to alight unconcernedly 
on the top of the snake head, where he proceeded 
to smooth his feathers. He leaned over and 
picked a bug out of one of the eye sockets. Jolita 
laughed softly. 

“Que talf” she exclaimed. “ You’re not afraid, 
are you, Pablito ? Neither am I. ’ ’ 

She stepped boldly toward the image, lift¬ 
ing each foot high above the thick grasses and 
trampling them down as she advanced. She made 
her way up to the monolith and examined it 
curiously, as it towered above her. The elements 
had beaten and blackened it, but the skill of the 
ancient sculptor was apparent in the execution of 
the design, in its remarkable resemblance to a 
reptile, carved on an immense scale from rough 
stone. 

“Now what can that be V 9 murmured the child, 
squinting up her eyes and scowling in perplexity. 


The Stone Images 


45 


4 ‘ So big! Makes me have shivers, almost, to look 
at it, even if it is only a stone. Looks like 
feathers on the sides of it—all around; queer 
thing—feathers on a snake! Oh look! ’’ pointing 
across the jungle, “there are some more tall 
stones, ’way over there.” 

She peered through the masses of green to 
where, farther on in the forest, the tops of several 
stone monuments appeared. The resistless 
jungle growth had partially buried them, but 
glimpses of gloomy, gigantic faces of human sem¬ 
blance could be seen, here and there, when the 
play of the sunlight made them visible. 

“Oh,” she cried, “there are many of them!” 

She pressed forward, the better to see the new 
discoveries. Pablo flew ahead and perched on 
one of the distant pillars. Jolita could see him 
stepping about briskly, climbing over the sculp¬ 
tured features of the head. He bowed and talked 
cheerfully and whistled in parrot fashion. 

The air of dread mystery had melted away. 
These stone things, although astounding, were 
not terrible, like the snake head back there. She 
resolved to explore this interesting place. A 
short distance farther she came upon a great, 
rounded, boulderlike stone, reddish in color. Its 
base was buried in the jungle, but its top rose 


46 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


higher than her head. Its entire surface was cov¬ 
ered with carved devices like those upon the 
other stones. 

Beyond this astonishing object was a long, flat 
slab in a little clearing curiously free of jungle 
growth. It lay upon the ground and its surface 
was occupied by a flock of lizards who scattered 
speedily when Jolita clapped her hands at 
them. 

She hopped lightly upon the slab in order to 
scan the surroundings. It tipped sharply with her 
weight and before she had time to jump, she was 
thrown into a deep, underground chamber, the 
sides and bottom of which were made of rough 
stone. The floor upon which she landed was 
damp with rain-soaked litter and dead leaves, 
and a heavy odor as of rotting vegetable matter 
assailed her nostrils. 

In the faint light admitted from above by the 
tilted slab, which had evidently formed the roof 
of the chamber, she could see that one end of the 
place trailed away into complete darkness, sug¬ 
gesting unknown depths. A stealthy movement 
near her caught her eye and she saw a huge scor¬ 
pion scurry out and disappear among the litter. 
She shuddered and shrank back in terror, her 
eyes wildly seeking some way of escape. 


CHAPTER III 


THE ARMY ANTS 


breathed Jolita, 4 ‘what place is 
this? It is like a trap! It smells bad, 
too, like the bats in the tree hollow. ’ ’ 

Again she heard the sound of rustling in the 
leaves near her feet and shrank against the damp 
wall. A sinister stir from the further end of the 
pit made her shiver. She imagined she could 
detect the outlines of a coiled boa constrictor. It 
was a likely spot for the day sleep of the great 
jungle serpent. 

“I must get out,” she gasped, “I must get out 
—oh quick—quick! ’ ’ 

Thoroughly alarmed, she searched the sides of 
the pit for a way to escape. She tried to climb, 
but could find no foothold. Each effort brought 
down the ancient masonry in crumbling heaps 
upon the floor. She attempted to pull herself to 
the top by some roots that hung over the edge 
of the pit, but they were dry and brittle and 
broke in her grasp. 

In her movements she stepped upon a ridge 
of earth and flotsam on the floor of the pit 
47 


48 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


through which recent rains had ploughed a shal¬ 
low gully. Her foot struck a tiny, hard object. 
She glanced down and saw a small, bright colored 
article, half buried in the soil. She bent to dis¬ 
lodge it, digging at it vigorously with toe and 
finger until she unearthed a little image, about 
two inches in height, similar in design to those 
the parrot had brought her. Could Pablo have 
entered this place? She turned the image over 
in her hand just as a slight movement from above 
attracted her attention. 

Through the gaps in the broken masonry she 
saw a dark human face peering down at her. At 
the same time she heard Pablo’s danger call, as 
he fluttered in the air over the pit. 

For a long moment the menacing eyes of the 
face held the frightened gaze of the child and 
then vanished. The parrot shrieked a warning 
that chilled her. She glanced about her desper¬ 
ately, sobbing with fear. She fully realized her 
serious plight and redoubled her efforts to es¬ 
cape. The image fell from her hand and lay for¬ 
gotten on the ground. 

A ropelike liana, almost invisible in the half 
light, stretched across the opening under the 
slab. She measured it with her eye. It seemed 
heavy enough to bear her weight, if she could 


The Army Ants 


49 



“A Dark Human Face” 

grasp it. Quickly gathering all the pieces of 
broken and dead roots within her reach she piled 
them in a little heap at one side of the wall. She 
mounted this and jumped again and again, fall¬ 
ing each time and cruelly bruising her hands 
and feet. 

With dogged courage the child persisted. A 









50 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


supreme effort finally brought her within reach 
of the liana and she managed to pull herself up 
to the surface. As she scrambled through the 
aperture and gained her feet she cast a keen 
look around her. Pablo flew back and forth 
above her head in great excitement, uttering wild 
screams. The forest resounded with alarm calls 
from its creature inhabitants. Something was 
coming that threatened them all. Flocks of 
clamorous parrakeets shot by, followed by great 
numbers of birds all headed in the same direction. 
Troops of monkeys raced across the tree tops 
with cries of terror, swinging from branch to 
branch in frantic haste. Little animals scurried 
across the clearing and through the grasses. 

The parrot tried his best to tell his little mis¬ 
tress of her peril. His actions plainly begged 
her to run also. Jolita could discover no sign 
of human presence, although she hastily searched 
on every side. The hostility expressed in the eyes 
that had glared at her when she was in the pit 
filled her with renewed terror, but she dared not 
go toward home, although the afternoon was 
waning fast. Her jungle knowledge gave her the 
clue to the danger approaching from that direc¬ 
tion and in spite of her fear of the silent human 
threat, she joined the procession. 


51 


The Army Ants 

The outcry overhead was almost deafening 
and her panic increased as she ran. She must at 
all events find a brook or a place surrounded by 
water where she could take refuge. A few yards 
ahead she broke into another clearing in the 
midst of which stood a broad-based, partly ru¬ 
ined column, at the foot of which were the rem¬ 
nants of a deep basin. It was approached by a 
circular flight of crumbling stairs. Here was pos¬ 
sible safety and Jolita raced for it. She must 
take her chance. No human menace could equal 
the peril that was marching swiftly toward her 
from the forest in the rear. 

Enough remained of the stone basin to hold 
water from the daily showers and Jolita with 
some difficulty scrambled up into it. She had 
no sooner found footing than she heard a crash¬ 
ing of the underbrush and a huge jaguar leaped 
from the forest, his magnificent mottled coat 
gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Tigre!” gasped Jolita in terror, making her¬ 
self invisible as quickly as possible behind the 
stone column. But the great cat bounded along 
as if flying for his life, looking neither to the 
right nor the left, and disappeared in the jungle. 

“He runs too. He knows!” she murmured. 
“Here they come!” She strained her eyes to 


52 


Jolita of the Jungh 


detect the ruthless vanguard of an enemy that 
is feared by every living thing in the tropical 
forest. 

Something that looked like a black shadow ap¬ 
peared at the edge of the open space, between the 
distant monument and the columned basin, and 
spread rapidly out over the vegetation on the 
floor of the jungle. The shadow soon covered 
everything—bushes, tree trunks, leaves. 

With fear-widened eyes the child watched its 
approach. Even though she knew she was rea¬ 
sonably safe, a sudden panic seized her and she 
closely examined the base of her perch. The 
ring of water was unbroken. 

“No dry spots,” she said in a relieved tone; 
‘ ‘ they can’t pass that water. ’ ’ 

A racing body of huge ants, massed solidly in 
countless numbers and covering a wide space, 
overflowed the clearing. In front of them fled a 
swarm of grasshoppers, beetles, spiders and in¬ 
sects, routed from their haunts in the under¬ 
growth, who vainly tried to escape their relent¬ 
less foes. With these, above the line of advance, 
came a twittering flock of small birds who greed¬ 
ily fed on the rabble of insect fugitives. 

Escape for those caught within the broad path 
of the advancing enemy was impossible, so well 



The Army Ants 





















54 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


organized were the invaders. Every cranny, 
every fallen leaf was closely examined for prey. 
Trees and bushes were searched by ant scouts 
from the main army, who hunted for nests of 
small animals, birds, bees and wasps. 

Jolita stood upright, grasping a jutting cor¬ 
ner of the column, as she watched the operations 
of the ants. Opposite her perch at the edge of 
the ruined stairway stood the decaying trunk of 
a dead tree. In its hollow heart was the nest of a 
toucan, the great-beaked bird of the tropics. Amid 
the danger calls and the confusion that had seized 
the feathered tribes, the mother-bird sat calmly 
in the nest with her young, awaiting in watchful 
silence the first onrush of the enemy. Instinct 
bade her fly, but mother love held her. 

Jolita could see her plainly inside the hollow, 
her huge, grotesque beak uplifted, her eyes fixed 
steadily on the edge of the circular entrance to 
the nest. 

“Oh, poor Yup-popo!” cried the jungle child 
tearfully, “I am afraid for you and your babies 
—oh dear, oh dear! ’ ’ She almost forgot her own 
danger in her anxiety for the bird whose mate 
fluttered wildly about from branch to branch 
with the strange, barking cry of his species: 
“ Yup-popo, vup-popo!” now a piteous plaint. 


The Army Ants 


55 



Mrs. Toucan 


But Mrs. Toucan was on guard and when she 
saw the waving antennae of an ant scout appear 
within her reach, she quickly stood up in her 
nest and with one snap of her great bill took off 
the head of the intruder. In an instant another 
scout came into sight and then another. Two 
clicks of the broad, yellow beak and the hated 
heads dropped. 

Jolita saw a number of them swiftly beheaded, 
as they arrived in single file. The last stragglers 






56 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


met the same fate. The scouts, thus having been 
executed, no report was made to the ant head¬ 
quarters for reinforcements to raid the nest, and 
it was not visited again. To Jolita’s joy the tou¬ 
can family was saved. 

The clearing was now a singular sight, alive 
with an insect flood that flowed in one direction. 
The millions of tiny feet made a dry, crackling 
sound, as the horde streamed over the ground. A 
section of them swept to the base of the ruined 
fountain and circled about it in swirling eddies. 
Hither and thither rushed the enemy, immense 
specimens of their kind, twice as large as the 
largest of ordinary ants, with formidable, wide- 
open jaws, which they clicked in a savage man¬ 
ner. 

Jolita held her breath, as she followed their 
movements. She had many times seen the bones 
of jungle creatures picked clean of flesh by the 
terrible army ants. Even the largest snakes, 
when semi-torpid from a recent meal, were often 
overwhelmed by sheer numbers of the swarming 
masses and reduced to fleshless skeletons. She 
fully realized what awaited her, should any of 
them discover a way to reach her. 

She watched the scouts come up and cross the 
edge of the basin almost to her feet, their slender 


The Army Ants 


57 


antenna continually wig-wagging, as though in 
soundless conversation with each other. They 
surged to the water line and stopped. Vigorous 
wig-wagging followed, with much touching of 
antennae. The water was just a little too deep 
for them to venture through and they held coun¬ 
cils of war all along the line. There was a pause 
and then one by one they turned and hurried 
back to the ground for more available prey. 
Finally all were gone from the basin. 

No more ants came to investigate and Jo- 
lita breathed again. Her immediate danger was 
over. After a while the marauding hosts began 
to thin out. A few stray ones bearing booty 
—fragments of dead insects and limp spiders— 
hurried by, until the last of them disappeared 
in the thickets beyond the clearing. 

Jolita waited as long as she dared before climb¬ 
ing down from the basin. The twilight shadows 
began to settle down over the forest and from 
its depths came the harsh “Boo-aw-w!” of the 
great tropical tree frogs, the bellow of the croco¬ 
dile from the swamps and the boom of the 
Howler monkeys in the distant tree tops. 

The devastation of the army ants had cleared 
the immediate jungle of its creature life and it 
was weirdly silent. Not a bird called, nor a 


58 


Jolita of the Jungh 



From the Forest Came the Boom of the Howler Monkeys 


cricket chirped. Jolita stood irresolute, staring 
about her. The danger of the ants was over, but 
another fear gripped her. 

“An Indian,” she whispered to herself, “he 
was an Indian. I saw him plainly and he looked 
so angrily at me when I was down there in the 
pit. Can it he that he lives in this place ? But 
why was he angry at me ? ’ ’ 

There was apparently no answer to these que¬ 
ries and the growing darkness bade her hasten 
homeward. She turned and was running toward 
the mound when a human figure stepped from 
behind the huge boulder and confronted her. She 


The Army Ants 59 

recognized tlie face that had gazed at her in the 
pit. 

Although there were few Indians in that part 
of the country, some of them occasionally came 
to the village on their way up the river in their 
canoes. This old man resembled those Jolita. had 
seen once or twice before. His stern face was red¬ 
dish brown in color. His straight black hair 
hung down to his neck and was bound around the 
forehead with a red band. Around his waist was 
a belt from the front of which an embroidered 
pouch or pocket hung. 

Jolita dodged aside, placing a, safe distance 
between herself and the Indian, and stood poised 
for flight. 

‘ ‘ Ho! ’ ’ he cried, coming toward her threaten¬ 
ingly, brandishing his machete, a keen-edged 
jungle knife. “What are you doing here? Hey? 
Go away! Don’t you come back again. It’s no 
place for you; keep out. Do you hear ? ’ ’ 

The child backed off silently, her keen eyes 
fixed on his frowning face. His evident hostility 
forbade any conversation, although she longed to 
ask for some explanation of the carved stones. 
She made a wide detour for safety and then dived 
recklessly through the matted tangles of the un¬ 
derbrush. 


60 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


The Indian did not attempt to follow her, ap¬ 
parently, and she soon struck the familiar little 
trail and flew on her way. Her mind was in a tur¬ 
moil from her experiences of the day and she 
longed to confide in some one. Her thoughts 
were busy, as she hurried along, with Pablo 
obediently following her. 

Neither her parents nor any member of her 
family had the slightest interest in her love of 
nature, or her rambles in the forest, other than 
to see that she was unharmed. Who else was 
there? In her little circle of human associates 
she could think of no one of whose understanding 
and discretion she could be sure. 

“There is Ramon,” she said, talking aloud to 
herself, as she ran. “Shall I tell him? He goes 
to the forest to hunt. He likes the flowers and he 
often speaks of the colors of the butterflies. But 
he hurts them. He catches the poor things and 
pulls their wings oft. No, I can’t tell him. I 
don’t like him.” 

In her heart she felt it would be unwise to go 
alone again to the place of the big stones. The 
threat from the Indian somewhat daunted her. 
She would have to think it over carefully before 
confiding her secret to anyone. 

The fireflies had lit their tiny lanterns as she 


61 


The Army Ants 

neared the settlement. They flashed in and out 
of the foliage in a twinkling, rhythmic dance and 
Jolita paused to enjoy the illumination. The 
play of elfin light against the somber shadows 
of the forest was a wonderful sight. Home was 
near enough now to risk lingering a few min¬ 
utes; but just then she heard her father’s voice 
calling her. 

She reached the hut as the last rays of daylight 
were fading in the sky. The younger members 
of the family had already gone to their shelf- 
beds when she entered. 

“You must not stay out so late, Jolita ,” 1 
growled her father from his hammock. “It is 
not safe in the forest after the light goes. You 
know that.” 

“Jolita,” called her mother, who was also pre¬ 
paring to retire. “You stay home to-morrow. I 
want you to pound rice. ” 

“Why cannot Carlos pound the rice, or Juan? 
They always do,” protested Jolita, as she ate 
her evening meal of boiled yampi and milk from 
a calabash bowl in a corner of the room. 

“They are going down the river with your 
father in the cayuca with a load of bananas,” 
answered the woman. “You are getting big 
enough to help now and you must stay around 


62 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


more. Too late by far, this is, for you to be wan¬ 
dering in the bush. The big snake will strike you 
in the dusk and then you’ll never come back.” 

By the light of the newly risen moon Jolita 
slowly finished her supper. Pounding rice was 
no part of her plan for the morrow and her dis¬ 
appointment was keen. She had suddenly de¬ 
cided to talk with Ramon, after all, on the subject 
uppermost in her mind. Now she would have 
no opportunity, with so many around to seize 
upon and spread the news of her discovery. She 
would have to wait. 

Dejectedly she climbed the little ladder to her 
corner under the roof. For some time she lay 
sleepless, listening to the mysterious noises of the 
tropical night, the strident sawing of the giant 
crickets of the jungle and the weird calls of night 
birds. 

The curious, pungent odor of an armadillo f or- 
aging near the hut came to her sensitive nostrils. 
She lifted herself and peered out through a chink 
in the thatch in an effort to see the animal, when 
she was thrilled at the sight of a lurking human 
form plainly visible in the flood of moonlight that 
bathed the surroundings. 

Although he stood partly in the shadow of a 
bush Jolita recognized the figure of the old In- 


The Army Ants 


63 


The Armadillo 



dian. He had followed her, then, and so silently 
that even Pablo had not detected him. Why had 
he done this? Should she give an alarm? Her 
father was snoring in his hammock and all the 
household except herself were asleep. 

Anxiously she debated within herself. The 
Indian might have some motive in betraying her 
visit to the place of the stones. Her parents would 
forbid her to go again. Suddenly he disap¬ 
peared. She searched the shrubbery as far as 
her peep-hole would allow her, but there was no 
sign of him. For a long time she lay motionless, 
waiting for further developments, but none 
came. The armadillo had betaken himself to the 
jungle and the night breeze now brought a sooth¬ 
ing odor of perfume from the forest. The cicadas 
droned in the thickets. Their drowsy rhythm 
quieted her and at last she fell asleep. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE INDIAN 

T HE younger children of the family were set 
at work early the next morning to winnow 
the rice from the dried plants, using a coarse 
wire screen which was shaken over a tub. Jo¬ 
lita’s task was to pound the kernels free from the 
hulls in a tall, narrow mortar, after which they 
were placed in the screen to be separated from 
the chaff. 

The girl’s mother had fastened about her a 
characteristic native garment of red calico that 
reached to her knees and was tied under the arm- 
pits, a mark of maturity which she had assumed 
most unwillingly. It meant to her the loss of her 
liberty. It proclaimed the fact that Jolita was 
now considered old enough to help at any time 
in the work of the household. 

Jolita hated the rice pounding. The mortar edge 
was so high that she was obliged to stand on tip¬ 
toe to ply the pestle effectually. The perspira¬ 
tion streamed from her lithe little body, and she 
had to stop every few moments to shake awa)^ 
the drops that ran into her eyes. It was work 
64 


The Indian 


65 


that would tire a grown person, far too heavy for 
a child. Her father grinned derisively at her as 
he lazily waited for his sons to prepare the canoe 
for the long trip downstream. 

“Well, how do you like it?” he called to Jo- 
lita, who pounded tearfully on, enveloped in dust 
and chaff. “It isn’t quite so easy as idling all 
day long in the bush, is it?” 

“Oh, it is so hard! Must I do it more?” She 
wailed dolefully. < ‘ My back aches and my arms 
ache!” 

The man laughed aloud. “A little work will 
do you good,” he bantered. The children laughed 
with him in a burst of teasing merriment. The 
sound brought a group of idlers from the settle¬ 
ment and soon Jolita was surrounded by a jeer¬ 
ing crowd, who found great amusement in her 
distress. Among those who came to laugh at her 
was Ramon. 

“Ho, ho!” he scoffed, “the red-head is work¬ 
ing; and she weeps over it. No more days for 
you in the forest, I think. Ho, ho!” 

By way of punctuating his humor, he poked 
her with a bamboo rod that he carried in his 
hand. The girl screamed at him wrathfully. 

“Ramon,” called Jolita’s mother from her hut 
near by, “you let Jolita alone.” 


66 


Jolita of the Jungl* 


Just then a shrill whistle was heard from the 
river bank. It was a signal well known among 
the settlement people and in an instant Jolita 
and her troubles were forgotten. From all sides 
and from every hut the natives rushed to the em¬ 
bankment overlooking the river. Many brought 
their guns. All eyes were fixed upon a cow that 
had entered the water from the opposite shore 
with the evident intention of crossing the stream. 
The animal belonged to one of the villagers who 
pastured it on the only available grassland in the 
vicinity, directly opposite the settlement. 

Reaching deep water the cow began to swim. 
A chorus of cries arose from the onlookers and 
many ran down to the water’s edge as a sinister 
black snout appeared on the surface heading for 
the swimming animal. The latter appeared to 
realize her peril and made frantic efforts to reach 
shore. The guns spoke and bullets spattered the 
water around the evil head of the pursuer. Pan¬ 
demonium broke out among the watchers on the 
bank. If none of the bullets had taken effect the 
cow was lost. A moment of suspense and then 
the black snout sank. The hated crocodile, the 
worst foe of the bush farmer, had been cheated 
of his prey. 

Jolita stood motionless with the pestle poised 


The Indian 


67 



The Crocodile 


in her hand, listening to the babel of talk that 
followed the incident. Little work would be done 
the rest of the day, she knew from past experi¬ 
ence. Everybody would he busy discussing the 
near-loss of the cow and the topic would last them 
for hours. In their idle lives every incident was 
of general interest and mutual concern. 

The girl quietly laid down the pestle and 
slipped away. The huts were all deserted and her 
departure was unnoticed. To her beloved forest 
she ran with glad relief shining in her brown 
eyes. The friendly trees caressed her ruddy 
head with their bending branches. The breeze 
brought to her from the inner jungle many de¬ 
licious odors of blossoms and spicy fruit. Deep 
in the woods the kiskadis called and a flock of 
toucans barked like frolicsome puppies. She 










“The Toucans Barked Like Puppies ” 













The Indian 


69 


skipped and laughed in keen delight. Here were 
joy and peace as in no other place. A great yel¬ 
low butterfly sailed over her head and fluttered 
to rest for a brief period on a bush. It slowly 
raised and lowered its black-ribbed wings with a 
graceful, fanning motion. 

“Oh, you lovely thing!” she breathed, as she 
tiptoed closer to examine it. In a moment an¬ 
other similar yellow-winged insect danced along, 
followed by another. Faster and faster they 
came. She looked about her and saw them com¬ 
ing from all sides. The air was full of them. 
She ran farther into the hush and there a won¬ 
derful sight met her eyes. Thousands upon thou¬ 
sands of lemon-yellow butterflies with black- 
veined wings flitted through the shaded lanes of 
the forest. As far as the eye could reach they 
streamed along, a great migration of bright- 
winged creatures so numerous that it seemed as 
if every yellow butterfly in the world had joined 
the swarm. 

Thicker and thicker they flew, endless numbers 
of them. They fluttered up from leafy nooks on 
every side, from orchid sweets and honej^ed flow¬ 
er-cups, as though obeying a mysterious sum¬ 
mons that none could resist. Their wings con¬ 
stantly beat the air with a strange, throbbing, 


70 


Jolita of the Jungh 



“A Great Yellow Butterfly” 


soundless movement. Because of their multi¬ 
tudes the traveling hosts seemed to throw out a 
pale glow like living light, as they passed through 
the cool green shadows of the jungle. 

Wild with joy Jolita sprang among them. 
Their soft wings brushed her cheek. She swayed 
her arms about, and danced and gentty buffeted 
them, to see them flurry up into the air in yellow 
swirls, to fall in again with the onward movement 
toward an unknown goal. 

They seemed not to fear her; she held up her 
hand quietly for a moment and one of the beau¬ 
tiful things lit on her finger. 

“Oh, oh,” she whispered in ecstasy, her face 
alight with happiness, her whole body rigid with 
the effort to keep perfectly still so as not to 


The Indian 


71 


frighten the butterfly, which clung with its wings 
raised upright ready to sail away again. 

A step sounded behind her and the dainty crea¬ 
ture was swept from her hand. 


“So-ho, here you 
are, indeed, red¬ 
head, catching but¬ 
terflies !” laughed 
Ramon, giving her 
a rough push. 
“Your father is 
looking for you and 
when you go back 
you’ll catch it! ha- 
ha ! He was cutting 
a bamboo switch for 
you in the thicket 
back there. Thought 
you were going to 
dodge the rice 
pounding, didn’t 
you ? It’s waiting 
for you, after you get the switch. Ho-ho!” 

He jumped upward with a “Whoosh!” and 
knocked down several of the butterflies that were 
passing overhead. As they lav fluttering feebly 


‘Thicker and Thicker They 
Flew ’ ’ 



72 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


on the ground he put his ruthless bare foot on 
them and crushed their delicate wings. Before 
she could prevent it, he repeated the movement 
and stamped upon a number of them. 

Jolita gave a stifled cry of rage and sprang 
upon him. Catching his hair in her muscular lit¬ 
tle fingers, she twisted it as hard as she could. 
Ramon yelled with pain. 

‘ ‘ Let go my hair! ’ ’ he shouted. ‘ ‘ I ’ll beat you 
if you don’t let go!” 

With teeth clenched and eyes aflame, Jolita 
hung on with bulldog tenacity. She could not 
endure his brutality to the butterflies and she put 
all her strength into avenging it. She did not 
utter a word but pulled with all her might. The 
boy writhed in agony and with a dexterous jerk 
of his body shook her off. He grabbed her arm 
and twisted it savagely. She screamed with pain 
and pummeled him with her free hand, but he 
held her fast with his greater strength. 

She was beginning to grow faint with the 
struggle when a long, lean arm darted over Ra¬ 
mon’s shoulder and gripped the boy’s wrist. In 
an instant the children were separated and Ra¬ 
mon was held helpless in the strong grasp of a 
man. Jolita picked herself up from the ground 
where she had fallen, gasping and sobbing from 


The Indian 


73 


her rough treatment. In amazement she recog¬ 
nized the Indian, whom she had seen the night 
before near her father’s house. 

“ You boy,” rasped the man, “what would you 
do to this girl? Trying to kill her, hey?” 

He shook the boy wrathfully. “And she so 
much smaller than you! ” he continued, throwing 
Ramon scornfully to the ground. 

“You keep your hands off me,” snarled Ra¬ 
mon, as he scrambled to his feet. “Who are you, 
anyway, and what you doing around here?” 

£ ‘ I am Miguel, a Huichol, ’ ’ replied the Indian 
proudly, surveying the angry boy as though he 
were some kind of a noxious insect. “Why not 
take your own size when you fight ? ’ ’ 

“You mind your own affairs,” shouted the 
boy. “You’d better get out before I tell my 
father. He’ll come over here and kill you.” 

The Indian laughed scornfully and fingered 
his machete . 

“I have no fear,” he said. “Would your 
father allow you to injure this girl?” 

Turning to Jolita, “Why did he do it, nina?” 
he asked. ‘ ‘ What happened that you quarreled ? ’ ’ 

“He killed the poor butterflies,” she replied 
tearfully, eyeing the crumpled wing-fragments 
on the ground. “He knows that I love them and 









r~ 

IHHB WKSsf^'^:^ 


~^- . : ^~~ . ' 


. 


i:r ••>** • ..• 


: ■■••*(vV yw-v i 




Miguel the Indian 


'} 



























The Indian 


75 


lie hurts them to tease me. He is very bad and 
cruel.” 

She wiped her eyes and gazed timidly at the 
man who had turned as though to go. 

“I—I think I saw you before; I saw you— 
somewhere—” she glanced aside at Ramon who 
had retreated to a little distance. The man’s face 
unaccountably darkened. He shook his head and 
walked swiftly away. She stood and watched 
him until he disappeared among the trees. Ra¬ 
mon glowered at her silently for a moment, and 
then turned and went in the direction of the set¬ 
tlement. 

Jolita stood alone amidst the moving yellow 
column of butterflies that still traveled in an end¬ 
less procession, steadily onward. Presently she 
climbed upon a great, jutting root of a wild fig 
tree and sat down. Pablo, who had perched on a 
branch overhead, flew down and settled himself 
on her arm. She regarded him sadly. 

“You are my only friend, Pablo,” she said 
plaintively, “the only one who really loves me. 
My father waits to beat me and my mother will 
not care. My brothers and sisters will not care 
—they will only laugh. They have no pity. 
Ramon has no pity. He is bad—bad. I shall tell 
him nothing—nothing at all.” Her face puck- 


76 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


ered with grief while the tears rolled down her 
cheeks. “Whom have I, then, besides you, 
Pablo?” 

The bird uttered a caressing croak, lowered 
his head and raised the feathers of his crest. 
Jolita stroked his smooth wings and held him 
close, as she gently scratched his head with her 
slender fingers. 

“The old Indian was good, wasn’t he? He 
made Ramon stop. Oh, that awful boy! I don’t 
know what I shall do. He troubles me so. I 
wish I could live somewhere else. If I only had 
somewhere to go—some one to be kind to me 
besides just a parrot.” 

The tears flowed again and she wept aloud. 
She could not summon up courage to go back 
home. Time enough for that at the end of the 
day. 

Her mind reverted to the mystery of the In¬ 
dian. Why had he followed her ? What was the 
reason he had warned her away so angrily from 
the place of the carved stones? She could not 
understand why the man had defended her from 
Ramon’s abuse when he had shown such enmity 
before. It was all a great puzzle to her and she 
could find no answer to it in her simple reason¬ 
ing. But she had learned his name. It was 


The Indian 


77 


Miguel, a Huichol. Slie repeated it over and 
over to herself. 

The fig tree under which she sat was full of 
ripe fruit and she climbed up into it to get some. 
As she clung to a branch the sky suddenly dark¬ 
ened. A shower was due in a few moments. A 
flash of lightning warned her. She hopped down 
from her perch and ran swiftly, followed by the 
parrot, toward her favorite retreat in the hollow 
tree, further on in the forest. 

The butterfly movement had ceased. In some 
mysterious manner the yellow flyers had received 
the order to “break ranks” and they all sought 
shelter in the foliage, where they crept under 
friendly fronds and overhanging leaves to es¬ 
cape the violence of the oncoming tropical down¬ 
pour. So closely packed were the butterflies in 
places that it seemed as though the trees and 
plants had suddenly put forth strange yellow 
flowers that hung in winged clusters underneath 
the matted greenery of the jungle. 

As Jolita made her way through the bushes a 
flurry of wind, preceding the rain, brought to 
her a peculiar penetrating odor. She stopped 
short with head uplifted and sniffed the air. A 
curious stillness had succeeded the wind flurry 
and in the silence she distinctly heard an ap- 


78 


Jolita of the Jungle 


proaching low murmur, accompanied by the 
snapping of sticks and twigs and the swish of 
bodies rushing through the underbrush. Her 
quick eye selected a nearby tree which held out 
sturdy, wide-flung branches. With the agility 
of a monkey she climbed up into it. 

She had no sooner settled herself on a leaf- 
sheltered limb-crotch than a multitude of small, 
grayish-brown animals rushed from the inner 
forest. In a moment the place resounded with 
the noise of trampling, little hoofed feet and a 
chorus of sharp, grunting sounds. 

“Oh, dear!” whispered Jolita in dismay. 
“Now I’m caught, if they get a glimpse of me! 
They’ll never let me get away, if they do!” 

The leader of the wild pigs seeking shelter 
from the on-coming rain charged straight for 
the big tree where Jolita was hiding. From 
every side they came; it seemed to the girl that 
there must be thousands of them—sharp-snouted, 
wicked-eyed little terrors to whom the sight of a 
human being is a declaration of war. They 
crowded close together under the tree until they 
stood in a solid mass beneath the shelter of the 
foliage, as the first drops of the deluge descended 
upon the forest. 

To reach a heavier clump of foliage that might 


The Indian 


79 



The Leader of the Wild Pigs 


give her a little more protection from the rain, 
Jolita changed her position a trifle and the 
slight movement attracted the attention of some 
of the pigs. A piercing squeal gave the alarm 
and instantly the whole troop gazed upward, 
snouts twitching and fierce little eyes glittering 
savagely as they searched the branches for a 
glimpse of the shrinking human figure. The 
rain presently descended in a slanting flood that 
soon became a heavy downpour. The pigs, with 
backs humped and heads lowered, stood quietly 
waiting for the shower to pass. 

Jolita knew, as all bush people do, that the 
pigs would establish a guard over her to be con¬ 
tinued night and day, until exhaustion threw her 
to their hungry jaws. As the rain moderated, 


80 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


they milled about the foot of the tree, with noses 
raised toward her. They snapped their long, 
yellow tusks and some of them tried to jump up 
at her. It was not an encouraging prospect. 

Again the sky darkened and once more the for¬ 
est was drenched with a passing shower so heavy 
that the assemblage under the tree was hidden as 
behind a veil. Jolita, huddled in her leaf-bower, 
which quite covered her, dully watched the drops 
pattering on the foliage. Suddenly she was con¬ 
scious of a jar in the branches of the tree. She 
peeped out cautiously and saw the misty outlines 
of a large animal. Through the gray, opaque 
curtain of rain, it had leaped from an adjoining- 
tree, evidently having followed the pigs from the 
forest. The deluge and the wind favored the 
cowering girl and the creature, a large, spotted 
jaguar, was apparently unaware of her presence. 

With wildly-beating heart Jolita watched the 
slow, crafty progress of the jaguar toward his 
intended prey. Stretched flat on the limb, with 
his gaze riveted on the animals below, the hunter 
crept inch by inch down the tree. The rain less¬ 
ened again and one of the pigs caught sight of 
the approaching enemy. It uttered a shriek like 
a bugle call and instantly the whole pack wheeled 
and raced at top speed into the forest. 


The Indian 


81 



The Crafty Jaguar 


With a furious snarl, as he saw his supper 
disappearing in the maze of the wilderness, the 
jaguar gave a mighty leap to the ground and 
bounded after them. There was a confused noise 
of swishing foliage, of scattering multitudes, of 
frantic squeals that rapidly died away in the 













82 


Jolita of the Jungl< 



“There Was No Sign op the Big Spotted Cat” 


distance and a profound silence descended upon 
the jungle. 

For a long time after the tumult had passed 
from her hearing, Jolita kept her rigid position 
until her limbs ached from the strain. Then, 
slowly, and very cautiously, she began to descend 
from her place of concealment. She peered 
around in every direction hut there was no sign 
of the big spotted cat, nor of the pigs. 

After a prolonged scrutiny of the vicinity, 
Jolita crept quietly down to the ground and 
started homeward. Away off in the wilderness 
behind her, a wild, piercing cry rang out, a weird 



The Indian 


83 


scream that quavered thrillingly to a hoarse 
moan and died away in a long drawn wail. 

Jolita shivered and hurried on. For the first 
time in her life she became conscious of a. vague 
distrust of herself. The risk of her jungle wan¬ 
derings suddenly assumed a menace that she had 
not realized before. Her childish faith in her 
own ability to escape danger seemed to melt 
away as she recalled a well known saying among 
the bush people, “ Sooner or later—” an utter¬ 
ance delivered with solemnly nodding heads. 
This she was now impelled to apply to herself. 
Sooner or later her hour would come—she had 
narrowly escaped it this time. A maturer under¬ 
standing had suddenly come to her that robbed 
her of her carefree delight in her beloved jungle. 
What else was left her ? Her family, with their 
dissensions, their habitual cruelties to harmless 
wild creatures, their unkindness to her because 
she was different from them, continually grieved 
her. Her tender heart yearned for comfort, but 
she knew not where to turn for it. 

She reached the settlement and slowly walked 
toward her home. 

“Jolita ,’ 9 called a hoarse voice, “come here.” 

The girl hesitated, bent her head and went to 
the place where her father awaited her. 


CHAPTER V 


DAYS OF BONDAGE 

XAT HACK! Whack! Whack!” The beat of 
* * the clothes-paddle sounded on the river 
bank where bending tree branches swept the 
slowly flowing water. A group of brown, naked 
children laughed and chattered as they played 
about the canoes drawn up on the shore in front 
of the village. 

The little clothes washer sat alone, as she 
wielded the paddle and soused the clothes up and 
down in the water. Occasionally she lifted her 
eyes from her work, rose to her feet and stood 
listlessly gazing into space. Jolita had greatly 
missed her freedom. She had been unable to go 
again to the place of the big stones where she first 
met the old Indian. Although she had acquired 
a new feeling of fear for the dangers of the 
jungle, she had a great longing to see the old man 
once more and talk with him. In her heart she 
now regarded him as a friend, a possible re¬ 
source in time of need. 

Had Jolita been lovingly instructed in tasks 
of needed service, her responsive nature would 
84 


85 


Days of Bondage 

have accepted them dutifully and cheerfully; hut 
there was little of kindness or consideration in 
the attitude of the family toward her, the odd one 
of the flock, and she was driven ruthlessly from 
one exaction to another. 

Flakes of down floated over her head and 
swung past her on the light breeze. She laid the 
paddle on the ground and looked up into the 
foliage above her head, where her parrot sat pull¬ 
ing to pieces a cotton pod he had plucked from 
a kapok tree close by. 

“O Pablo,” she murmured, “our good times 
are over! No more can we go to the forest every 
day and play with the butterflies, or hunt for 
treasures among the big stones in that strange 
place out there. I have to make fires and cook 
rice and tortillas for the hungry children. Oh- 
h-h dear me!” she yawned drearily. 

“Jolita!” shrilled a sharp voice from the hut 
above the bank, where her mother lay stretched 
in a hammock, idly fanning herself with a frag¬ 
ment of a palm leaf. 

“Wash those clothes and be quick about it. 
As soon as they are finished I want you to cook 
frijoles. Come now, waste no time talking to that 
parrot.” 

“Yes, Jolita, waste no time,” came the teasing 


86 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


chorus from the children, echoed by Ramon, who 
was fishing from the end of one of the canoes. 

“Yes, Jolita,” he mocked, “too much time you 
waste.” He stood up in the canoe, picked a peb¬ 
ble from the ground at the bow of the boat and 
threw it at the parrot. It struck beside the bird 
with a thump and Pablo, with an indignant 
screech flew into the jungle. 

Jolita caught up the bundle of wet clothes and 
ran some distance along the shore, where she 
again resumed her task, turning her hack to her 
tormentors. She bent over her work, oblivious 
to all about her, and pounded the clothes with 
vigorous blows of the paddle. She tucked up her 
garment and waded out to deeper water to rinse 
the pieces. 

Ramon quietly followed, unobserved by her, 
and sat down just beyond, with his fishing-pole 
in hand, keeping a watchful eye on her. 

The edge of the river below the settlement was 
lined with a thick growth of water lilies of man} r 
varieties. Tiny yellow ones with small, round, 
glossy leaves were intermingled with lovely, pure 
white blossoms, and others of a deep pink, that 
made a wonderful mass of color. Among these 
grew clumps of water plants with spikes of blue 
flowers that added to the color variety. Over 


Days of Bondag( 


87 



“Evil Eyes and Long Horny Nose” 


them lmng a wall of foliage where the trees had 
not been trimmed and under the overhanging 
branches were many dark places where the sun 
could not penetrate. Fallen logs, water-soaked 
and decaying, made breaks here and there in the 
flower border. A log, partly submerged, lay 
close to the shore-edge, almost hidden by foliage, 
a few yards from the spot where Jolita was 
working. 

Ramon had thrown out his line into the water. 
Suddenly it bent with a vigorous pull. 

“Oh,” he yelled, “I’ve got a bite! I’ve got a 
bite!” 

Jolita turned to look at him, when the half- 
immersed log suddenly came to life and slid to¬ 
wards her. It had sprouted evil eyes and a long 
horny nose. 

Ramon glanced at Jolita just as the great, 
warty snout of an immense crocodile rose swiftly 





« 


88 Jolita of the Jungle 

from the water and with wide-open, jagged¬ 
toothed jaws lunged toward her. With a warning 
shriek Ramon dropped his pole and sprang to 
her rescue. He gripped her just in time to save 
her and threw her roughly back out of harm’s 
way. The treacherous reptile snapped its jaws, 
sank into the water with a vicious slap of its pow¬ 
erful tail and disappeared. 

Jolita lay on the bank where she had been 
thrown, with her bundle of wet clothes clasped in 
her arms. She stared dumbfounded at the boy 
who regarded her silently for a moment. 

“You keep out of that river,” he cried, then 
turned without another word and went back to 
recover his pole. Jolita picked herself up and 
climbed the bank toward the house. The incident 
had not been observed, apparently, so she said 
nothing about it. 

Her mother complained fretfully as Jolita 
struggled with the cooking, trying to follow 
directions and at the same time comply with the 
many other demands made upon her. Her mind 
was full of the surprising fact that Ramon had 
saved her life and she moved as though in a daze. 

“Jolita, wake up; what’s the matter with 
you?” scolded the mother. “Bring me some 
water. My head—it feels as though it would 


Days of Bondage 


89 


burst. Hand me that fan. I feel sick—so sick! 
You’ll burn those frijoles. Take them from the 
fire.” 

Throughout the day the girl was kept busy at 
one task or another. Toward night it became 
evident that her mother was very ill. One of the 
younger children was also ailing. An old woman 
who acted as nurse in the settlement was sum¬ 
moned. The woman gave one look at the patients 
and retreated hastily. 

“It is the plague!” she cried. “You will all 
have it if you stay.” Without another word she 
ran to warn the community. In a few hours the 
place, except for Ramon’s house, in which the dis¬ 
ease had also appeared, was deserted. In the 
weeks that followed Jolita saw her family sicken 
and die, one after the other; she alone survived, 
in spite of the fact that she had constantly min¬ 
istered to their needs as well as she knew how. 

Ramon had a light attack and recovered. 
Through all her misery and the bewilderment 
of manifold tasks, Jolita was dully aware of the 
boy’s assistance and rough sympathy in many 
unexpected ways. At the end he and his father 
set fire to the two huts and burned them to the 
ground. Then, taking her father’s shotgun, the 
only article of any value in their belongings, 


90 


Jolita of the Jungle 


Jolita went with Ramon and the remnant of his 
family through the forest to a spot farther up the 
river, where the refugees from the plague had 
cleared a place for another settlement and erected 
a cluster of huts. This was a matter which re¬ 
quired little time and labor, as materials in 
plenty were close at hand in the jungle. 

Jolita had been unhappy in her own home, but 
her life now became one of practical slavery. She 
was at the beck and call of all her adopted family, 
who forced her to do most of the work. There 
was no room for her in the hut, so a hammock 
was put up for her in the chicken corral in the 
rear. Ramon helped to make her an enclosure of 
bamboo canes and put a thatch of palm leaves 
over it for a roof, so that she was protected from 
the rain. His apparent friendliness was the only 
bright spot in her changed existence. 

Manuel Mendoza, Ramon’s father, was a brutal 
man who beat her without mercy when she was 
unfortunate enough to offend him. Ramon at¬ 
tempted to defend her one day, when her punish¬ 
ment for some slight mistake was unusually 
severe. He never tried it again, for his reVard 
was a similar punishment for the interference. 
But a bond of secret sympathy was thereby estab¬ 
lished between the two children and Ramon 



Manuel Mendoza 





























92 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


showed Jolita many little kindnesses that were 
of comfort to her. She wished to tell him about 
her encounter with the Indian and her experi¬ 
ences in the place of the big stones, but never 
could find an opportunity, so closely was she 
watched. 

Her days were a succession of monotonous 
duties, with no pleasures. Each night she fled in 
utter despair to her retreat in the chicken corral, 
there to sob herself to sleep. Ramon, although 
kindly disposed toward her, was occupied with 
his own pursuits and had little time for her 
troubles. 

After months of this unhappy life, Jolita 
finally made up her mind to run away as soon as 
possible into the forest. She would try to find 
the Indian and beg him to let her stay with him, 
wherever his home was. Anything would be 
better than the misery of her present position. 

The last straw came one day when one of the 
family injured her beloved Pablo, who had fol¬ 
lowed her to her new home. The bird had in¬ 
curred displeasure by pilfering a bit of food from 
the hut where Jolita was working. When she 
saw her pet snatched from her shoulder, where 
he had taken refuge, roughly mistreated and 
thrown into the jungle, Jolita knew that the time 


Days of Bondage 


93 


had come. With set face and blazing eyes she 
moved about her tasks as usual, awaiting the 
night when she would be free. 

All through the long hours of darkness she lay 
sleepless, weeping for her lost pet while awaiting 
the first sign of dawn. The stirring of the 
chickens warned her of the approach of day. 
She slid from her hammock and made her way 
stealthily out of the corral. 

The family were all sound asleep and her bare 
feet made no noise. Manuel Mendoza had ap¬ 
propriated her father’s gun for his own use. As 
she passed the hut, she quietly reached in and 
took the weapon from its resting-place against a 
post. 

The Indian might be persuaded to let her stay 
with him if she offered him the gun. It was 
useless to her and it was heavy for her to carry, 
but she was sure it would be valuable to her in 
some way and she determined to take it at any 
cost. 

She searched about for a few minutes in the 
jungle near the hut, hoping she might find some 
trace of Pablo, in case he had survived his in¬ 
juries ; but there was no sign of him. 

If dead, his little body would have been eaten 
by ants long before daylight. Weeping softly, 


94 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


she soon abandoned the quest for him. There 
was no time to lose. The night mists still hung 
over the jungle when the girl, in her quaint 
scarlet garment, the gun over her shoulder as she 
had seen her father carry it, started off through 
the wilderness to seek a haven, among un¬ 
known* conditions, with a rough old Indian of 
whom she knew nothing. It was a desperate 
chance, but it seemed to her there was nothing 
else she could do. She dared not think what 
would happen to her in case the Indian refused 
to let her stay. 

Long familiarity with the jungle gave her an 
instinctive knowledge of direction. Following 
the river toward the site of the deserted settle¬ 
ment, she soon began to find landmarks that led 
her in the right direction. 

The shadows lifted rapidly as daylight spread 
across the sky. The gun was a heavy burden, but 
she did not pause until she was well into the 
forest and reasonably safe from pursuit. She 
longed for Pablo’s companionship and her eyes 
filled with tears at the thought of his wanton and 
cruel death. 

The jungle birds piped and called to salute the 
morning light from their nests and nooks in the 
trees and thickets. The forest day world came 



The Jungle Stream 










96 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


forth to greet the dawn. Soon there was a blithe 
chorus of bird music on all sides. The girl made 
good progress through the bush until she 
reached the familiar fern-bordered stream, where 
she threw herself down on a grass-covered hum¬ 
mock to rest and ease her arms from the strain 
of the heavy gun. 

Jungle growth had nearly obliterated the faint 
trace of her old narrow trail and she felt there 
was now small chance of her being overtaken. 
The wilderness would show scarcely a sign of her 
passage. It was an ocean of greenery, in whose 
depths the little refugee could hide herself with 
comparative safety from human enemies. 

Jolita lay for some time, staring up into the 
masses of foliage overhead. For the first time in 
months, she was able to throw off the feeling of 
dread and unhappiness that had possessed her 
and to renew her delight in the beauty of the 
jungle. She smiled happily at the insects danc¬ 
ing in the air, at the dragon-flies that swooped 
over the little stream and at the little green 
parrakeets that nestled in loving couples among 
the branches above her. Great, twisted vines 
and climbing ferns, mingled with flowering 
creepers, overhung the stream. Here and there 
rose tall Cecropias with smooth, white stems and 


97 


Days of Bondage 

wide, upturned leaves. With clasped hands Jo- 
lita sat motionless, entranced by the lovely scene. 

A pair of parrots lit on a tree near her and 
their quaint remarks to each other made her 
think of Pablo. Her mood changed and the tears 
came, as she thought of her forlorn situation. 
Suppose the Indian had gone away for good; 
what should she do in that case ? To go back to 
Ramon’s house was unthinkable. She could not 
endure it there any longer. 

After a few moments she arose, took up the 
gun and started toward the place of the big 
stones. Her steps grew slower as she drew near 
the familiar spot. She came finally to the screen 
of vines, now much denser than before. She 
made an opening for herself and stepped into the 
space around the mound. She paused a moment 
and gazed about her. Except for the low hum 
of insects and the occasional soft twitter of bird 
notes, there was the same solemn hush that had 
greeted her before. Not a leaf stirred and there 
came to her again the sensation of unseen, watch¬ 
ing eyes that always brought to her little waves 
of foreboding chill. 

She turned and climbed to the top of the 
mound, went to the little niche in the low wall and 
took out her treasures. They were there, just 


98 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


where she had left them. She felt very lonely 
and depressed and more than ever she missed 
Pablo. There was no one now to warn her of im¬ 
pending danger. Suddenly she realized that it 
would be impossible for her to live here or any¬ 
where, without some companionship. That was 
sure. She put her treasures back in their hid¬ 
ing-place and resolutely started on her search for 
the Indian. 

She found the banana clump as before. Be¬ 
yond it rose the tall stone, topped with the grue¬ 
some head. An ambitious vine had gained and 
encircled the reptilian neck and one eye was 


partially obscured 
by a clinging ten¬ 
dril. She walked 
slowly toward it, 
unafraid. Huge 
blue butterflies dip- 
ped and darted 
before her through 
the shadow-clipped 
sun rays. 



1 ‘ Huge Blue Butterflies ’ ’ 


She passed the great, rounded boulder, but 
there was no sign of human presence and her 
courage began to fail her. Every moment made 
it more evident that she could not remain alone 


99 


Days of Bondage 

in this wild place and the farther she went the 
more hopeless her plight appeared. She must 
find the Indian very soon or return to the settle¬ 
ment. Sure death awaited her here alone. 

She came to a thick wall of underbrush and 
trees with tangled vines that made an impene¬ 
trable barrier. She followed it until she sud¬ 
denly perceived a flight of crumbled stone steps 
almost hidden in the vegetation. 

Up these she made her way, eyes and ears 
alert for a possible attack, until she gained the 
top and came out upon a knoll that led to an ex¬ 
tensive terraced area at a slight elevation. Back 
of the terrace stood a crumbled row of ancient 
buildings. 

As Jolita advanced slowly, there came to her 
ears the sound of a familiar whistle. She stood 
transfixed, head bent forward, listening intently. 
Croaks and calls and chatter, and quaint little 
notes that she and her lost pet were in the habit 
of exchanging by way of conversation were dis¬ 
tinctly audible. To her it was a thrilling message 
of hope and she hurried forward. 

As she came nearer, she heard another sound 
that mingled with the babbling bird talk. It was 
that of a human voice uttering deep groans of 
suffering. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE ANCIENT RUINS 

A FEAR of possible disaster seized Jolita as 
she stood for a moment and listened to the 
sounds that came from within. The buildings 
were different from any jungle houses she had 
ever seen. They were like small, roofless rooms 
made of stonework, the partitions of which were 
age-worn and partly overgrown with vines. A 
curtain of knotted lianas hung across the nearest 
opening. Jolita. tiptoed up to it, drew the strands 
cautiously aside and peeped in. 

A little brown burro stood in one corner of the 
enclosure, tied with a liana rope to a huge stone 
ring curiously set in the thick wall. The slight 
movement attracted the attention of the animal 
and it uttered a loud bray that rang through the 
quiet jungle like the blast of a trumpet. 

On the other side of the room was a square, 
cagelike contrivance made of bamboo poles at¬ 
tached at one side to the roofless partition. The 
sides of this odd enclosure were made of woven 
lianas that formed a stout netting, stretched be¬ 
tween the framework of bamboo poles. The top 
100 


The Ancient Ruins 


101 



The Little Brown Burro 


of tlie cage was made of closely laid bamboo 
lengths and was thatched with several thick¬ 
nesses of broad palm leaves, over which was a 




102 


Jolita of the Jungh 


heavy layer of “bulls ’-horn thorn” * bushes. The 
thorn bushes, with their immense, sharp spines, 
had been laid thickly along the top of the four 
walls that enclosed the outer room and the whole 
formed an effective refuge from the visits of wild 
animals or reptiles. 

On a perch close to the cage, tied by one leg, 
was a parrot. Jolita gasped. The bird was flut¬ 
tering wildly and trying to break away from the 
cord that held it. The girl could scarcely believe 
her eyes. 

“Pablo!” she whispered, “it is Pablo, alive 
and here—here, in this place! ’ ’ 

The bird gave every indication of having rec¬ 
ognized her. He whistled and chuckled and 
bowed, and tried to stand on his head, perform¬ 
ing all the little tricks that Jolita had taught 
him. He did his best to fly over to her. 

“Sh-sli!” she cautioned, “wait, Pablo; wait a 
minute—wait! ’ ’ 

The sound of suffering came from the cage. 
She slipped through the outer door, crossed the 
enclosure and stood at the entrance of the cage, 
peering in at the occupant, who lay on a low 


* Local name for Acacia costaricensis and derives its name from its 
strong, very sharp, paired thongs that closely resemble the horns and 
forehead of a bull. 



The Ancient Ruins 


103 


bamboo couch moaning with pain and tossing 
from side to side. 

Jolita went in and bent over the man, whose 
eyes were closed. It was the Indian. 

“Miguel,” she said softly, her eyes fixed on the 
contorted face. The wrinkled eyelids lifted 
slowly and the dark eyes dully stared at her. 
The girl held her breath in a panic of apprehen¬ 
sion during the long silence that ensued. If he 
drove her away in anger what should she do ? 

“Nina!” he murmured finally. “How came 
you here?” 

He started to rise but fell back again, as a wave 
of pain seized him. Pointing to his left arm, 
which was terribly lacerated and swollen, he 
said faintly: 

“Last night—outside—a fight with a tigre —he 
nearly got me; tore my arm, ugh! The pain! 
Get me water—a stream near the sugar cane— 
outside—” Then came incoherent mutterings as 
he lapsed into semi-delirium. 

The girl picked up a bowl from the floor. Her 
heart was full of joy* She had found her pet 
again and a refuge, just in time to save her from 
the terrors of a night alone in the forest. She 
was sure, now, that the old man would not drive 
her away, that he was kindly in spite of his rough 


104 


Jolita of the Jungh 


exterior. In his misfortune she saw an oppor¬ 
tunity to make herself useful to him. This might 
prove a more powerful argument in her favor 
than any she herself could have given. 

She pushed the liana curtain aside and stepped 
out upon the terrace. Twilight was rapidly 
falling. A thick patch of sugar cane, through 
which the fireflies danced and twinkled, grew 
at the rear of the building. The walls of the 
jungle pressed close upon the clearing. From it 
came the cries of night prowlers already astir 
for their business of food hunting. 

“How strange that Miguel should have taken 
Pablo,” she whispered to herself. “Where did 
he find him ? He must have been close by when 
they threw Pablo out. What was Miguel do¬ 
ing there? I didn’t see him at all.” 

Jolita’s quick ears caught the sound of 
trickling water near at hand. She skirted the 
sugar cane and just beyond it found a tiny 
stream where the rank undergrowth had been 
cleared away to reveal traces of an ancient, shal¬ 
low, flag-stoned ditch leading down the hill be¬ 
hind the row of buildings. Through this channel 
the water rambled and gurgled and broke into 
tiny cascades at intervals, until it disappeared 
in the undergrowth. 


The Ancient Ruins 


105 


The girl knelt beside the stream to fill the 
bowl. She found a clump of guarumo plants 
growing near and gathered a few of the broad 
leaves, then with a dexterous snap broke off a 
length of cordlike liana hanging from a tree over 
her head and ran swiftly back to the room. 

The Indian had roused himself again and 
watched her keenly as she ministered to him. He 
submitted in silence to her attentions and she 
prudently said nothing, as she hurried back and 
forth, making the best of the short interval be¬ 
fore darkness fell. 

The leaves she chewed and moistened into a 
poultice as she had often seen her mother do; 
this she bound onto the badly injured arm, using 
the liana cord to fasten the cooling application 
securely. She brought water and a bundle of 
grass for the burro, making man and beast as 
comfortable as possible. Finally the Indian 
spoke. 

“You have come here, nina, at night? Why is 
that? Why did you not go home when it grew 
late?” 

“Miguel,” said Jolita, falling on her knees, her 
eyes filling with tears, “I have no home. My 
people are all dead. The plague took every one. 
I went to live with Ramon Mendoza’s people, but 


106 


Jolita of the Jungle 


they beat me, Miguel. They made me work too 
hard. They tried to kill my poor little Pablo. 
You saw that? I thought he was dead. I sup¬ 
pose you found him. It was good of you to take 
him—a little wounded parrot. You were very 
kind. May I untie him? He wants to come to 
me.” 

The man nodded silently and watched, with 
somber eyes, the joyful reunion between the girl 
and her pet, a touching demonstration of affec¬ 
tion. The bird’s wing was not injured seriously. 
With Pablo on her shoulder, Jolita came back to 
the sufferer on the bench. 

“You will let me stay—a while—won’t you, 
Miguel?” she pleaded. “I will take care of you; 
see, I have already helped you. You could not 
bind the arm alone and now it is easier—yes? 
O Miguel, I shall die if I have to go back to Men¬ 
doza’s. Don’t send me away to die!” She 
clasped her hands beseechingly and sobbed aloud. 

For several moments the Indian made no re¬ 
ply. The shadows grew dark in the room. Out¬ 
side the crickets chirped and night owls hooted. 

“It will soon be quite dark,” said Miguel 
finally. “Do as I tell you. There is a hidden en¬ 
trance at the back of this wall here. Find the 
corner and push hard. There is no knob. A 


The Ancient Ruins 


107 


small door in the wall will open. There is a shelf 
outside with a tin box on it. In the box are some 
figs. Take some; you must be hungry. Pull the 
door tight when you come in again. A hammock 
that lies over there in the corner can be slung in 
here for to-night. It would not he safe for you to 
sleep outside. To-morrow we will talk further.” 
He closed his eyes and leaned hack. 

Jolita did as she was bidden. She managed to 
hang the hammock inside the cage between the 
bamboo poles. Her timid attempts at conversa¬ 
tion were met with stony silence. She curled 
herself up in the hammock and listened for a 
while to the whine of bats that darted about the 
room outside, to the shriek of night frogs and 
the dismal cries that frequently arose from the 
depths of the forest. Pablo had perched himself 
on the end of her hammock and his presence was 
of infinite comfort to her. Finally she fell asleep. 

When Jolita awoke in the morning she was 
alone in the cage. Its bamboo door stood open. 
The burro was gone also. Her father’s gun lay 
on the floor beside the wall where she had laid it 
when she arrived. She wondered if Miguel had 
noticed it. She jumped from the hammock, ran 
outside and gazed about her. 

The hill upon which the buildings were located 


108 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


overlooked a wide valley to the westward which 
had been invisible in the evening mists. A billow¬ 
ing sea of foliage covered it and Jolita could 
see here and there, peeping from the smother 
of green, the indistinct tops of other stone 
structures similar to those she had passed in the 
jungle. In the far distance rose the blue peak of 
a lofty mountain. She thrilled with the thought 
of living in this wonderful place, so different 
from any she had ever known. If Miguel would 
only let her stay! 

A little column of smoke at the rear of the 
building attracted her eye and she went toward it. 
She discovered Miguel bending over a tiny fire 
on which he was cooking some black beans in a 
small pot. Pablo sat gravely on a branch close 
by, inspecting the process. The burro stood a 
short distance away, contentedly munching at a 
fresh bundle of grass. 

“I have frijoles, if you would like some,” said 
Miguel, as the girl shyly approached. He ladled 
a portion into a gourd bowl and handed it to 
her. His manner was not unfriendly and she 
took fresh courage, especially as Pablo seemed so 
contented. As the beans cooled, she ate them 
with her fingers in native fashion. Her eyes con¬ 
stantly roved about, studying the place so novel 


The Ancient Ruins 


109 


to her inexperienced eyes. She dared not speak 
and waited for the man to break the silence. 

“And so you have no place to go?” he finally 
said. 

“No,” she replied, “none hut Manuel Men¬ 
doza’s, and I’d rather—I’d rather go out in the 
jungle and let the crocodiles get me than go back 
there to Mendoza’s. You will not send me there ? 
You will not, Miguel? I have brought my 
father’s gun. Manuel Mendoza took it from me, 
but it is mine by right, so I took it when I left. 
None of them knew when I went; it wasn’t yet 
light and they did not awaken. It is a good gun 
and I will give it to you. Only let me stay.” 

The Indian studied the fire. 

“I did not want anyone here with me,” he said. 
“I have work to do in this place and there is 
danger.” 

“Danger?” she questioned. 

“Yes. There are no settlements about here. 
The bush is very thick. My work takes me down 
there into the lowlands of the valley and it is full 
of jaguars, snakes, crocodiles. I have had many 
narrow escapes. Maria and I come and go. We 
do not stay here always.” He glanced at the 
burro, who had finished her breakfast and stood 
quietly dozing at her post. 


110 


Jolita of the Jungle 


“What could I do with you?” he questioned, 
raising his head and looking at her with troubled 
eyes. “You did help me last night. My arm is 
much easier this morning. But I could not leave 
you alone here while Maria and I went to the val¬ 
ley. It would never do. Shall I take more care 
upon myself to hinder me in my work ? It would 
be a foolish thing for me to do. ’ ’ 

“What is your work ?” she asked timidly. 

“I search for orchids, the flowers that grow on 
dead trees in the jungle, the wonderful blossoms 
that are greatly desired by the white people who 
live in the far north. The flowers are sold there 
for much money. I make my living by gathering 
them. Few people can do it, as they often grow 
in very dangerous places. In that valley down 
there,” he pointed out across the foliaged spaces, 
“are thousands of them. I have found places 
where many kinds grow that are not found else¬ 
where, rare varieties, and these bring me very 
good prices where I sell them. But always there 
is danger in walking about. ’ ’ 

Jolita nodded. “I know,” she said quickly. 
“I know all about it, but I am not afraid, Miguel. 
I have lived always in the hush and I can take 
care of myself. ’ ’ 

“Maria and I,” resumed Miguel, “stay here 


The Ancient Ruins 


111 


while we are collecting in that valley. Several 
years, now, I have been coming hack and forth. 
It is safer than to camp, you see. But I am not 
prepared to take anyone else with me. It is best 
that I he alone. When I have collected all that 
Maria can carry, we go out to the Mission, which 
is three days’ travel from here.” 

“The Mission?” queried Joiita. “What is a 
Mission?” 

“It is a place in the more settled regions over 
there near that high mountain, miles from here. 
In it white people from the far north country are 
keeping schools for Indians like myself, and the 
brown people like yourself, who wish to learn. 
They are good, those Mission teachers, and they 
can be trusted. I lived there a long time. They 
taught me to read and many other things that 
would be good for you to learn. 

‘ 4 1 know the sort of lives the bush people live. 
I watched you many times when you did not see 
me. You deserve something better. For some 
reason you are quite different from your people. 
I know you have been badly treated by Manuel 
Mendoza. I know also that he has no claim on 
you at all. I could take you to the Mission as an 
orphan child—one without parents or people— 
and they would give you a good home and teach 


112 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


you liow to take care of yourself. You might 
even learn to be a teacher among the people in 
the hush. 

“I have been thinking of it through the night. 
But I am not ready to go yet. It is now the best 
season for orchids and there are many I wish to 
get. It is a puzzle to me to know what to do with 
you.” 

“But Miguel, you have only one arm that you 
can use now. For some time your sore arm will 
trouble you. I can help you in so many, many 
ways. I can cook. Try me and you will see. Do 
let me try,” she entreated. “I too know how to 
find these flowers; they grow everywhere in the 
bush. There is one kind that is guarded by fierce, 
stinging ants that live in the flowers. Don’t I 
know that! I have been stung by them! You 
could show me the kind of orchids you want and 
I could help you gather them. Let me stay for a 
while, anyway. There is the gun,” she reminded 
him. “I carried it all the way to give to you. It 
is loaded, too, but I do not know how to use it. It 
might be useful to you, Miguel. Will you tell 
me,” she asked, adroitly changing the subject, 
“who made these stone images and things about 
here ? What are they for ? Who built these old 
houses without any roofs and all falling to pieces ? 


The Ancient Ruins 


113 


What are those high, pointed things that I see 
above the tree tops down there in the valley— 
what are they, Miguel, and who put them there ?” 

Evidently this was a matter of great interest to 
the old Indian and his face lighted with 
animation. 

“In that valley,” he said, with an impressive 
sweep of his arm, “are miles of ruined buildings 
where many years ago—so long a time that they 
were entirely forgotten—a great, powerful race 
of people lived, who built the most wonderful 
temples and palaces with carved decorations in 
stonework all over them. I could not tell you the 
half of it, but I have seen them myself. And they 
are most of them now crumbled to pieces and cov¬ 
ered with jungle plants.” 

“What are temples and palaces?” asked the 
girl wonderingly. “I have never heard of such 
things. ’ ’ 

The Indian smiled. Jolita’s heart thrilled with 
happiness. It was a good omen. 

“Tell me some more about it, Miguel, this won¬ 
derful place that no one knows about but you.” 

‘ 6 There are some who know about it, some who 
have the courage to come this far into the jungle 
to study these ruined buildings—white men who 
have cleared away part of the plants and trees 



One of the Wonderful Temples 
(Reproduction of Ancient Mayan Temple) 



Head of Mayan God Kukulcan 
(Which Means “Feathered Snake”) 















The Ancient Ruins 


115 


that hid them. But white men cannot live in 
those lowlands. The dampness and heat give 
them fever and they have to go away when the 
rains come. I met some of those men at the Mis¬ 
sion. I was guide to them in their explorations 
among the ruins and I heard what they said about 
those temples and tall stones. The great temples 
and palaces were built for all the people to meet 
in when they held ceremonies. I cannot explain 
it to you now so that you will understand, Jolita. 
Perhaps I can some day. But it was very won¬ 
derful to hear those wise white men tell about it. 
And it was through them that I now gather the 
flowers—the orchids—and sell them to a man who 
lives near the Mission. He sends them north to 
people who buy them of him. 

“I have searched among those ruins many 
times; have been where probably no one else has 
dared go. But it is no place for a girl. I have 
had many adventures there. Caves and pits hold 
death which waits constantly for the unwary; 
and those {daces give shelter to all kinds of ani¬ 
mals and big snakes. I am telling you, it is no 
place for a girl.” 

The man arose and stood looking down at her 
with a perplexed frown upon his dark face. The 
girl watched him anxiously. He paced back and 


116 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


forth muttering to himself and shaking his head. 
Suddenly he turned. 

“Well,” he said, “I see nothing for me to do 
but keep you here, much as I dislike to, until I 
finish for this time. The blossoming season for 
some of the orchids I must get would be over by 
the time I took you to the Mission and came hack. 
You shall stay on. 

“Now we must prepare a sleeping-cage for you 
in the next room to mine. It is not safe here 
without one. After that we will go, you and I and 
Maria, down to the valley of the ruins and I will 
show you how I get the orchids. If danger comes, 
I will do the best I can for you.” 

Jolita’s sleeping nook was made of bamboo 
canes laced together with lianas, much the same 
as Miguel’s. The two worked together with a will 
in making it. The girl’s stout arms and nimble 
fingers, under Miguel’s direction, afforded an ac¬ 
ceptable substitute for the latter’s crippled arm 
and the cage was soon constructed. 

A few hours later a little procession wound 
down a narrow trail toward the lowlands. Jolita, 
supremely happy, rode the gentle Maria, who 
followed close at her master’s heels, while Pablo, 
perched on the girl’s shoulder, caressed her 
cheek affectionately from time to time. 


The Ancient Ruins 


117 


4 ‘Did you make this trail, Miguel?” inquired 
Jolita as they traveled slowly along the thickly 
overhung path, dodging trailing vines and brush¬ 
ing aside the heavy branches. 

“Yes, Jolita,” replied the Indian, whose in¬ 
jured arm the girl had hound up afresh and con¬ 
fined in a sling. 

“I cut it first with my machete and each time 
I go away the jungle grows over it, so that I have 
to cut it anew when I return. ” 

“Are we going near the temples'?” she asked 
eagerly. 

“Yes, nina,” he answered simply. 

At this thrilling statement the girl clasped her 
hands in mute delight. A wonderful vista of new 
interests opened before her vision. Gone forever 
was the old fear of cruel blows, harsh words and 
tasks that were too heavy for her strength. The 
kindly old Indian would never abuse her, of that 
she was sure. 

One doubt only remained for her to puzzle 
over. Why had he shown such anger on her first 
encounter with him when she was in the pit? 
She recalled vividly how he had driven her away 
from the place of the big stones, back there be¬ 
yond the houses. In contrast with his present 
attitude, that was a mystery. She could not 


118 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


fathom it; but with childish faith, she put the 
doubt away from her. An explanation would be 
given her in good time. She must have patience. 

As they reached the lower levels, traces of the 
ancient city began to appear through the wilder¬ 
ness. Jolita pointed them out to Miguel, chatter¬ 
ing gaily in her happiness. 

“Aren’t they interesting, those stone things 
scattered through the bush here? I’m sure Ra¬ 
mon would like to see them! ’ ’ 

The Indian stopped suddenly and faced the girl 
with an angry frown. 

“You are not to bring Ramon here,” he thun¬ 
dered, “nor any of your people from the bush. 
I do not want them! ISToav remember what I say. 
I must do my work here in peace, with no inter¬ 
ference. I have allowed you to stay, although I 
did not wish to. Let them once find out where 
you are, and you will never see the Mission. 
Make no mistake about that. And they would 
wish to harm me for letting you stay. I have no 
time nor inclination for fighting,” he shouted, 
shaking his finger at her. “Answer me now! 
Will you forget them—or will you go back?” 

“No, no, I shall never go back, Miguel, never!” 
she exclaimed, dismayed at the idea of having of¬ 
fended him. 6 6 I will never see any of them again, 


The Ancient Ruins 


119 


if I can help it. No indeed. I am sorry that I 
mentioned Ramon. Do forgive me!” 

4 ‘ Very well, then. We will not talk about them 
any more. ’ ’ The man turned about, muttering to 
himself morosely, spoke to the burro, and they 
started again down the jungle path. 


CHAPTER VII 


HUNTING ORCHIDS 

A S they descended into the valley their path 
wound through a remarkable stretch of 
jungle wilderness. The Indian was often obliged 
to halt their progress while, with his uninjured 
hand, he cleared away the rampant vines which 
hung in great, cordlike festoons. Above their 
heads crowding groups of tree ferns and palms 
bent their delicate fronds in filmy arches, many 
of them wreathed with scarlet or pink blossoms 
of clinging parasites. Birds of rainbow-liued 
plumage fluttered among the branches of the 
trees and huge butterflies with brilliant blue 
wings danced in the air. 

‘ ‘ O Miguel! ’ ’ exclaimed Jolita, “ it is beautiful, 
beautiful! The trees are so much larger here 
than in our bush back at the settlement. ” 

She glanced upward. A sudden commotion 
shook the branches overhead as a band of white¬ 
faced monkeys, like funny little old men, rushed 
from limb to limb to peer down at the trav¬ 
elers in the trail. They leaped and swung and 
bounded back and forth, harshly screeching their 
disapproval of the intruders. 

120 


Hunting Orchids 


121 


Delighted with their antics, Jolita aimed a con¬ 
volvulus blossom at the nearest and clasped her 
hands in glee at the comical rage of the little 
animal when the flower struck him fairly on the 
nose. 

“Oh look, Miguel!” she cried presently, “there 
is water ahead.” She pointed down the path 
where a small clearing gave a view of the valley 
below. “ Is it a river ? ’ ’ 

“No, it is a lagoon,” replied the Indian. “It 
was made by the people who lived in those stone 
houses long ago. There are fine orchids growing 
near it. There is one, pink in color, which is very 
wonderful. They call it the gueria. It is like no 
other—a strange flower with long, shiny, pink 
leaves and a deep red mouth with a beard of soft 
hairs around it, and it jerks with odd motions 
and makes faces at you. ’ * He smiled whimsically. 

“Many of the orchids are like that,” he said. 
“They seem almost alive, and mischievous. 
They beckon you to go where it is dangerous. 
It is a bad place, around that lagoon. I almost 
fear to take you there. But I must get some more 
guerias. We shall have to go very carefully. 
Great crocodiles live there. They hide and wait; 
ah-h-h! they are quick when they jump, although 
they lie in the water like old, dead logs! But their 


122 


Jolita of the Jungle 



great mouths are full of sharp teeth and they use 
their tails to sweep and strike.” 

“I know,” said Jolita, nodding her head. 
“My father used to say, ‘Watch well when you’re 
near water.’ One nearly got me once. I was 


The Guerias—Wonderful Pink Orchids 



Hunting Orchids 


123 


saved by Ra—” she clapped her hand over her 
mouth as she nearly uttered the forbidden name. 
“A narrow escape,” she hastily added. “I can 
see more tall stones ahead there in the valley. ’ ’ 

“ Yes, ” answered Miguel. ‘‘ Some are very tall 
indeed and stand high above the trees. Just 
ahead of us are three that were cut to look like 
men—strange men, not like any we see around 
here. And all have pictures, queer birds and ani¬ 
mals and things like that, carved on them. The 
white men whom I guided were always trying to 
find out what those pictures meant. They said 
it would tell about the people—that picture writ¬ 
ing—but they could not understand it, as it was 
different from anything they knew about. Those 
ancient tribes could do things that are unknown 
now. Who could lift great blocks of stone like 
those of which the houses and temples are made ? 
Where did the stones come from, anyway? 
There are none in these jungles. They must 
have brought them from a long distance. No 
one who lives here now knows anything about 
them. We can only look at these things and 
wonder. Some time, perhaps, the wise men will 
learn to read the meaning of the stone pictures 
and then we shall know all about them. ” 

Maria gave a sudden jump aside to avoid an 


.24 


Jolita of the Jungle 

immense, flesli-colored centipede that raced on 
myriad legs across the narrow trail. Jolita 
leaned over the burro’s back and watched it 
wriggle out of sight. 

“Ugh!” she shuddered, “they are horrid, those 
many-legs. That was a monster!” She patted 
Maria’s shaggy neck. “No, indeed, little Maria, 
you shall not he injured if we can help it. And 
we shall go very, very carefully, when we get 
near the lagoon. We are not going to he sur¬ 
prised by any of those dreadful crocodiles. I 
wonder what else we’ll see there?” Her eyes 
were bright with anticipation and she laughed 
excitedly and clapped her hands. 

“Oh, this is a wonderful country!” she ex¬ 
claimed, bouncing up and down a little on 
Maria’s patient back. 

“Don’t you think so, Pablo mio?” She 
stroked the parrot, who had fluttered to the crook 
of her arm. She lifted him in front of her face 
and kissed him with a loud smack, which the bird 
echoed in imitation. 

“Isn’t it good, good, good, to be together again 
in this beautiful world and free to go where 
the flowers and the birds and the butterflies live— 
yes, and the many-legs and the crocodiles! They 
are better than old Mendoza, anyway.” 


Hunting Orchids 


125 


She prattled on liglit-lieartedly, happy in the 
enjoyment of her new freedom, while the Indian 
guided their progress down hill. Suddenly he 
stopped and pointed through the shrubbery. 

“In there, beyond that tall palm, do you see a 
pile of stones with vines and roots all over it?” 
he asked. 

Jolita craned her neck. 

i ‘ Oh, yes, ’ ’ she exclaimed, peering ahead with 
great interest. 4 6 What is it ? Looks like a hump 
in the ground. And beyond—I can see—I can see 
many piles of stones, one on top of another like a 
long wall. Can we go and look at it?” 

The Indian chirruped to the burro and started 
ahead. 

“It is getting toward the middle of the day. 
We must not linger here. I have searched all 
around there on my trips, passing along this trail. 
I found many wonderful things. There is a long 
stone tunnel connecting that place with the rooms 
on the hill where we have come from. There is 
also a paved ditch that conducts water from 
underneath somewhere, a spring, perhaps, that 
still exists. I could hear it gurgling under the 
matted vines. It runs down into the valley 
toward the lagoon. That was once some sort of 
a big house or temple; the foundation shows it, 


126 


Jolita of the Jungle 

but the rest is all crumbled away, except for the 
ditch and the tunnel. The place where we live is 
in much better condition than most of the 
smaller buildings.” 

“What do you suppose happened to the people 
finally?” 

“Well, the wise white men said probably the 
different tribes made war on each other; that 
seems most likely. They had big fights and killed 
each other. So the tribes became fewer in num¬ 
bers and less able to defend themselves. And 
then, at last, they were all gone. And it was so 
many, many years ago that people forgot all 
about them. Wasn’t it pitiful that they could 
not live on in peace, when they were so wise in 
other ways? We turn at this big tree to reach 
the temple.” 

The heat had increased perceptibly as they 
neared the valley floor. They paused a few mo¬ 
ments under a spreading fig tree to rest, as a 
passing shower beat a tattoo on the green canopy 
above their heads. The rain soon ceased and they 
started on. The heavy foliage quite shut out the 
sunshine and they traveled in a green half-light 
that made all objects seem misty and unreal. 
Jolita sat quietly on the burro’s back, her eyes 
busily scanning the surroundings, her face alight 


Hunting Orchids 


127 


with eager interest in every passing phase of the 
jungle’s wonders. The heat was oppressive and 
she fanned herself with a cecropia leaf. 

“We will rest at the 
temple, just this side of 
the lagoon,” said Mi¬ 
guel. “We cannot work 
while the sun is over¬ 
head. I have some tigs 
and pinole in the bag 
and there is cool water 
in the stream near by. 

It is a good place to Sculptured Head of Mayan 

Warrior 

rest.” 

“The temple,” whispered Jolita to herself. 
“Now I shall see what a temple is.” 

They came suddenly upon a great, square¬ 
headed, stone figure standing solemnly in the 
silence of the wilderness. Beyond it, apparently 
having formed a weird trio, were two similar 
fallen figures almost hidden from sight by ac¬ 
cumulations of moss and plant growth. The 
travelers stopped and stood silently gazing at 
them. After a few minutes Miguel spoke. 

“These were probably the guards, the defend¬ 
ers of the temple, so the wise men said. I came 
with them to look at this place some time ago. 




The Stone Image 





















Hunting Orchids 


129 


They said the people who made those stone 
images believed they came alive after they were 
made and could protect them from harm. Yon¬ 
der is the temple,” he pointed ahead. Jolita 
could see its gray peak above the tree tops. 

“That is the one that overlooks the lagoon 
where I get the guerias. Farther on—the trees 
hide them—are two other temples, much larger 
but more difficult to reach. They are on higher 
ground and are surrounded by great flights of 
stone steps. Five terraces must he climbed to 
reach them and the steps are much broken. It is 
a strange place. I went once up there, ffiut I do 
not care to try it again. There are inner 
rooms and underground caves—perhaps they are 
ancient graves where dead people were placed— 
and millions of bats live in them now. It is not 
wise to go there. Snakes and animals lurk in 
those rooms of stone. All about here, for a long 
distance, the country is strewn with ruins like 
these.” 

He led the way again and they approached the 
temple slowly and cautiously. Jolita eyed the 
stone images with intense interest,as. they passed 
them. The standing one glared into the jungle 
with its great, round, flat eyes fixed gloomily on 
space. 



An Ancient Sculptured Stone 















Hunting Orchids 


131 


“Alive!” she whispered to herself; “almost it 
seems as though it were really alive and could 
kill us for coming here, like the snake stone of the 
mound place that looked as if it wanted to eat 
me! ’ ’ She gazed in awe at the huge image, turn¬ 
ing to stare at it as long as it was visible. 

The brooding silence of the valley, with its 
fierce heat, affected them all. Pablo, hunched in 
a little feathered ball on Jolita’s shoulder, dozed 
occasionally and opened and closed his eyes 
sleepily. 

Maria’s little hoofs began to clatter on stone 
pavement and soon they came to a lift in the val¬ 
ley floor that led to an extensive terrace where 
the narrow trail ended. 

Here, at a word from Miguel, Jolita slid from 
the burro’s back. The Indian pulled the little 
animal up over the four-foot wall surrounding 
the terrace and they entered the broad court in 
front of the ruined temple. 

Rubbish and dead roots, fallen tree trunks and 
jungle debris littered the wide, sun-drenched 
space. Huge piles of stone fragments lay heaped 
about the terrace, with here and there a weird, 
sculptured face, or a carved animal shape, peep¬ 
ing from the accumulations. 

The temple structure, cracked and weather- 


132 


Jolita of the Jungl< 



A Mayan Bas-relief Showing Feathered War-bonnet 


worn, elbowed by encroaching groups of trees, 
and split in many places by persistent plant 
growth, towered grimly above its vegetable in¬ 
vaders as though defying them to do their worst. 

Jolita gazed awestruck and speechless at the 
sight, as the Indian guided the burro toward the 
shelter of the building. The girl seated herself 
on a slab of stone and stared about her. She 
turned and studied the huge gray pile with open- 
mouthed astonishment. Instinctively she held 
her breath and watched for some sign of human 
presence. A dread of something—she knew not 
what—suddenly seized her and she sought a seat 
nearer the Indian for protection. 









Hunting Orchids 


133 


“Miguel,” she quavered timidly, “is—is there 
no one here—but us ? I—I thought I heard some¬ 
thing moving inside that temple—or somewhere 
near. Something frightens me, Miguel, I don’t 
know what it is.” Her eyes, round with fear, 
constantly roved about and she trembled visibly. 

Miguel had tethered the burro in the shade 
and had taken from his pouch the flint to start 
a small blaze over which they would warm the 
pinole. He turned on her angrily. 

“How, now, you must not be frightened,” he 
fumed. “If you are going to bother me with 
your fears, I might as well take you directly to 
the Mission and leave you there. I tell you I 
have searched around here before and there is no 
one here. 

4 ‘ There may be a lizard inside, or perhaps some 
creature has a nest. Keep away from the walls, 
that is all. Until we are attacked, there is no 
need to be afraid. I told you that it was no place 
for a girl. Take this bowl, now, and wash it in 
the stream over there.” He turned away irri¬ 
tably, talking to himself in an undertone. 

Jolita hurried with the bowl to a little stream 
that flowed at the foot of the terrace. 

“Oh, dear,” she whispered to herself, “I must 
be careful not to make him angry. I don’t want 


134 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


to go to the Mission yet—not yet. I want to see 
him gather the orchids. I will not be afraid,” 
she assured herself. “He knows the valley. 
Surely he does.” 

She ran back and handed him the clean bowl. 

“I did not mean to trouble you, Miguel,” she 
said softly. “I will try not to do so again. It is 
all very strange to me, you know. I was never in 
a place like this before. Can’t I warm the 
pinole1 I wish to help you, if you will let me.” 

After they had eaten they sat for awhile rest¬ 
ing and waiting for the noon heat to abate. The 
Indian lay at full length in the shade, watching 
with half closed eyes the play of sunlight and 
shadow on the stones of the ancient pavement. 
Jolita beat out the remnant of the little fire with 
a stick and washed the bowl again at the stream. 
Then she seated herself at the edge of the stone 
terrace, where she could get a good view of the 
surroundings. She longed to ask many ques¬ 
tions, but Miguel was apparently asleep and did 
not answer her when she spoke. 

Too excited by all these unusual experiences 
to doze likewise, the girl arose and walked slowly 
across the terrace toward the temple. At one side 
of the structure a huge arnate tree had found 
rootage among the broken slabs of the pavement 


Hunting Orchids 


135 


and upreared itself against the age-worn walls. 
It had grown to a height of thirty feet or more 
and its sprawling limbs formed a network over 
the receding slope of the roof. Some of its 
branches had begun to decay and parasitic 
growth had settled upon them. 

Jolita paused under the tree and gazed up¬ 
ward. A flash of color caught her eye from a 
limb in the upper part of the tree. She went 
closer and saw a superb spray of magnificent 
orchid flowers of a wonderful pink hue, with 
long, delicate petals. Each flower had a heart of 
glowing crimson that seemed to pulsate with an 
almost perceptible motion. Jolita scrutinized the 
plant closely. Yes, there were the little beardlike 
hairs around the deep red mouth of every blos¬ 
som and they seemed to move with weird little 
jerks like mysterious, beckoning fingers. These 
must be the wonderful guerias that Miguel had 
spoken of. She would like so much to get a 
spray for him—to surprise him with the first 
trophy. It might please him, and she wished so 
much to please him. 

She glanced back at the Indian. He had not 
moved. She was sure he was sleeping. She de¬ 
cided to try for the guerias . The tree was 
branched almost to the ground and her bare feet 


136 


Jolita of the Jungle 



Orchid (locally called Gueria) Tricopelia Suavis, native of 
Central America 


carried her noiselessly from limb to limb in the 
upward climb. The perfume from the clusters 
of gorgeous flowers was overpowering in its 
strength and sweetness and Jolita caught her 
breath in gasps as she ascended. The fragrance 
seemed to affect her with a sort of dizziness. 




Hunting Orchids 


137 


The upper branches of the tree leaned with the 
contour of the structure and through the limbs 
as she slowly made her way upward she could see 
breaches in the time-worn roof that revealed a 
dark interior full of unpleasant suggestions. 

She hesitated halfway to her goal as she came 
to one of these breaches. She had misgivings 
that perhaps she should not have tried for the 
guerias. Somehow it seemed harder than she ex¬ 
pected and little thrills of fear ran over her. She 
leaned forward and peered down into the shad¬ 
owed cavern. 

A stealthy movement within, not far from 
where she stood, became perceptible to her, a 
rhythmic, swaying motion, back and forth. 
Directly there came to her vision a mysterious 
shape that immediately outlined itself in a huge 
reptilian head, the dull yellow eyes of which were 
fastened upon hers. 

A wave of sickening horror seized her as she 
realized that the triangular head was coming 
steadily toward her. The enveloping orchid per¬ 
fume, in stifling volume, seemed to paralyze her 
senses. With staring eyes and trembling limbs 
she cowered against the tree trunk and managed 
to utter a shriek of despair. 

“Miguel,” she screamed, “come quick!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE EARTHQUAKE 

T HERE was a swift rush from below and the 
Indian, with surprising agility for one of his 
years, darted to the rescue. For a moment he 
could not locate the girl, huddled as she was 
within a mass of foliage against the trunk of the 
tree. She was limp with fear, her eyes fastened 
upon the great, mottled boa which glided from its 
dusky retreat, coiled its thick body around a limb 
and thrust forward its head in preparation to 
strike. 

The gasps of the frightened child guided the 
man. Holding his machete in his teeth, he 
scrambled upward as fast as he could. The 
snake, at the interruption, slowly curved its 
coils upward and drew back its head, darting out 
its long, slender, wicked-looking tongue. 

“Drop, niha Miguel snapped, then, bracing 
himself, threw the sharp knife with terrific force 
straight at the deadly, mesmeric eyes. The 
weapon struck just as the creature emitted a loud 
hiss, slicing off a piece of the scaly head and com¬ 
pletely obliterating the eyes. 

138 


The Earthquake 


139 


The heavy coils whipped and lashed and the 
head dashed right and left, beating the air with 
sightless fury. Jolita dropped to the ground ut¬ 
terly unnerved and lay at the foot of the tree, 
sobbing convulsively. 

Quickly recovering his knife from the limb 
crotch where it had lodged, the Indian struck the 
boa again and again. Although handicapped by 
his injured arm, he managed to sever the back¬ 
bone of the reptile with his keen-edged blade. 
The writhing body slowly went limp, slipped 
backward into the black depths from which it 
had come and finally dropped out of sight. 

Miguel descended from the tree and stood over 
the weeping girl. 

“Why did you climb up there?” he demanded. 
4 ‘ I told you these buildings are dangerous, that it 
is not safe to go too near them. Couldn’t you 
see that the tree covers holes in the temple roof ? 
You know that snakes lurk in such places. ’ ’ His 
voice trembled with wrath and he continued 
harshly: “Obey me you shall, if you are to stay 
on while I finish this work. There is danger 
enough, without you adding to it.” 

“I—I wanted to get some guerias for you, 
Miguel,” sobbed Jolita. “I saw some beautiful 
ones up there in the tree. I did not think about 


140 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


the holes in the roof until I got ’way up. I 
thought only of pleasing you with the wonderful 
flowers—the first of our trip. But they seemed 
to smother me with their perfume. I could 

hardly breathe 
when I got up 
there, and I was 
waiting for the 
dizziness to go 
when the snake 
came. Oh-h-h!” 
she shuddered, 
‘ 4 those eyes creep¬ 
ing up out of the 
darkness — nearer 
and nearer! Those 
awful eyes! They 
held me. I c o u 1 d 
not move, not even 
a finger! And I 
trembled so! But I 
am sorry I went up 
the tree. You were 
asleep and I did not want to waken you. I do not 
mean to disobey you, Miguel. I do not want to 
cause you trouble,” she wailed, the tears stream¬ 
ing. 



Boa Constrictor 











141 


The Earthquake 

The man’s face softened. He stood in silence a 
moment looking down at her. 

“It is hard for me to be patient,” he said. 
“I am used to being alone. Those flowers are 
evil. I told you that. ’ ’ 

She nodded mutely, wiping away her tears. 
“You must never again try to get them unless 
I am beside you. Remember that. It is not safe. 
This place is full of dangers at every turn and 
you must stay close to me. I shall get enough 
orchids to fill two bags and then we will go to the 
Mission and I will leave you there with the good 
people. Now come, we will go over by the lagoon 
and see what we can find. ’ ’ 

They pulled Maria down over the low parapet 
again and followed a faint trail that led past the 
temple, down a slope. The jungle floor showed a 
swampy sponginess and insect pests flew in swirl¬ 
ing clouds over their heads. 

Poor Maria was in torment from swarms of 
tiny flies that Miguel called jejen. Jolita con¬ 
stantly waved a small palm leaf to scatter them. 
Their progress became more and more difficult. 
Everywhere the decaying trees were covered with 
orchid plants, many of them a mass of gorgeous 
blooms. Countless birds perched on the branches 
and flew back and forth among the trees. 


142 


Jolita of the Jungl< 



The Key Papa Mosa 


“Look,” said Miguel softly, pointing to a little 
bird sitting on a twig above their heads. “It is 
the ‘Rey Papa Mosa’; watch him now.” 

Miguel stood with his eyes fixed on the tiny 
bird, which suddenly erected its crest and showed 
a scarlet halo of feathers that surrounded its head 
like a little fiery wreath. 

“O Miguel!” cried Jolita, “isn’t he beautiful! 
I never saw one like that before. So many birds 
here! White and gray and green and red and 
every color. See the humming birds—just look 
at them, flying everywhere! They shine and glis¬ 
ten like little dots of rainbows darting about!” 

The entire lagoon presently came into view, a 
sheet of black, motionless water with scarcely a 
ripple on its mirrorlike surface. On the opposite 
side the shores were covered with dense under¬ 
growth overhung by huge trees. Vivid splashes 


143 


The Earthquake 

of color from blossoming vines made wonderful 
reflected pictures on the water. 

On the near side the land sloped to the lake 
edge through sticky, hot mud-flats, overlaid 
with decayed and fermenting swamp debris in 
which the pools oozed and bubbled in the fervid 
heat of the tropical sun. The slime rippled with 
the movements of wormlike, tropical water 
creatures engaged in the perpetual struggle for 
existence. Enormous turtles basked on raised 
surfaces, on mud-bars and the protruding- 
branches of dead trees. Green and yellow water- 
snakes hung like orchid tendrils from overhang¬ 
ing tree limbs, and here and there the ugly, half 
submerged head of a watchful crocodile, eyes and 
nose on guard, floated motionless. It was a sinis¬ 
ter spot, full of evil omen, and Jolita stood close 
to Miguel as they silently surveyed the place. 

“The wise white men said they thought this 
lake was originally connected with the three 
temples by underground tunnels or pipes,” said 
Miguel finally. “It must be fed from springs 
somewhere in the jungle, perhaps from streams 
like the one I discovered under the ruined build¬ 
ing back there on the hillside.” 

The heat waned as the afternoon advanced and 
Miguel busied himself with hid orchids. He 


144 


Jolita of the Jungl< 



Tropical Humming Birds 


found many fine clumps and Jolita helped him 
pack them in the bags that Maria carried. The 
girl soon learned to separate the pieces of rotting 
wood, on which they grew, without disturbing the 
small, white, wormlike roots on which the life of 
the plant depended. 

“If you break these roots, Jolita,” Miguel ex¬ 
plained patiently, as he deftly split a large speci¬ 
men into two portions, “the plant will die. You 
can pull them away, this way. See ? The wood is 
so soft and crumbly that it falls apart easily.” 

“I should think the plants would die, anyway, 
shut up in a box so long,” said Jolita, her fingers 
busily arranging the orchids according to 
Miguel’s directions. 

“Yes, you would think so, but most of them 
stand it all right, if they have their little piece of 




The Earthquake 


145 


wood to feed on and their roots are not broken. 
We pack them very carefully in separate tin 
boxes and send them to a big city by the sea, where 
they are loaded into a ship. They sail for days 
and days to a country far away. There are 
people in those distant lands who make a business 
of selling orchids.” 

“It seems strange that anyone would pay 
money just for flowers, doesn’t it?” said Jolita. 

“There are many countries where flowers like 
these do not grow as they do here, on almost 
every tree. When you go to the Mission you will 
learn, as I did, about things of which you have 
never dreamed. This place where we live is a 
very small part of the great world. Come, we 
must start back now. ’ ’ 

He tied the filled bags on Maria’s back, made 
a place for Jolita between them, lifted her into 
it, and they began their return trip up the hill¬ 
side. 

The orchid trophies were hung in a fringe 
around the rooms, when they reached “home,” as 
Jolita called their strange dwelling. So skill¬ 
fully had the plants been handled that most of 
them went on growing and blossoming serenely, 
as though nothing had happened to them. They 
were a delight to the little jungle girl, who 


146 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


adopted them as her special charges. To her they 
seemed alive and she endowed them with human 
traits. Some she designated as “good,” others 
were “bad.” Those of delicate colors and per¬ 
fume she called her “good children.” The 
deeper-toned ones—flame, rich maroon, brown, 
orange and intermediate shades, among them the 
impish guerias which had led her into trouble 
with their pouting, deep-red, hairy mouths and 
their stifling odor—she classed as “bad,” or 
“very had” children. 

The impulse for doll play, so natural to girl 
children of most races, had never come her way 
as yet. Her parrot had supplied an object for 
her affections; her studies of the wild creatures, 
during her time of freedom, had filled her life 
full to the brim, and since that time there had 
been little opportunity for playtime in Jolita’s 
life. In the orchids she found a new interest that 
came like a kindly light into the deprived life of 
the little jungle girl. 

The Indian showed her, in one of the white 
orchids, a curious little growth inside the fluted 
cup, a perfect imitation of a wee, flying bird with 
wings outstretched.* The head and beak were 

* This orchid is known as the Espiritu Sancto, or 11 Holy Ghost 1 * 
orchid (the Peristeria Elata), of Panama. 




The Peristeria Elata 
(The orchid with the bird) 








148 


Jolita of the Jungle 


& 


Orchid Cattleya Labiata, Native of Central America 



marvelously natural and there were two small 
yellow dots for eyes, one on each side of the head. 
Jolita was entranced. 

“Was there ever anything so wonderful as 
that?” she cried. “It looks as if it could fly out 
into the air!” 



149 


The Earthquake 

The next day Miguel spent in repairing his 
hags, while Jolita boiled some beans for their 
noon meal. The old man taught the girl how to 
weave a simple carrying-basket from split palm 
leaves. No one had ever taken the trouble to 
teach her anything of this sort before and she 
was eager to learn. 

“You have strange hair for a bush child, 
Jolita,’’ remarked Miguel, as they worked at 
their tasks. 

“Oh, my hair!” Jolita’s voice was bitter and 
she gave the offending locks an angry brush with 
her hand. “It has been a terrible trouble to me. 
I don’t know why I have red hair. I hate it. 
Everybody at the settlement made fun of me be¬ 
cause it was different from theirs. Please don’t 
talk of it, Miguel. Let me forget it. ’ ’ 

“We are as the good God made us, nina. Per¬ 
haps He has made your hair red that you might 
learn to he patient when others teased you. For 
me, I think it is pretty.” Miguel looked at the 
bright locks admiringly. 

“Then I shall try to like it. Tell me, Miguel, 
have you no people anywhere who could come 
and live with you, to help you with this work 
here ? It must be very lonely for you. ” 

The Indian did not answer for some moments. 


150 


Jolita of the Jungle 


“My people were from a Huichol pueblo in 
lower Mexico,” he said finally. “My father was 
a shaman—a chief and priest of the tribe. We 
were honorable in all our dealings. White 
people came to live near our pueblo and they 
cheated and robbed us. We did not expect it, for 
we had trusted them and helped them. My 
father was killed by those bad men, who violated 
our sacred feast and carried my mother away 
with them when we fought them. We never saw 
her again. 

“I was a lad then, and after that I went to 
work in the mines in the south near the border¬ 
line of Guatemala. I stayed there several years. 
It was a hard life and I missed my people. ” He 
paused for a moment apparently lost in sad 
thoughts. 

“I hated the white men,” he resumed. “I be¬ 
lieved them all bad. Finally I came to this part 
of the country. I caught the plague and was sick 
a long time. I expected to die. The Mission was 
near where I was staying and one of the good 
women living there heard of me. She came to see 
me in my miserable hut. She was not afraid of 
the plague. She was a brave woman,” he said 
slowly, nodding his head. “These people were 
different from the bad white men who had robbed 



Orchid Nanodes Medusae, Found in Central America 








152 


Jolita of the Jungle 


me of my parents. The Mission workers cheated 
no man and they helped me to get well. I worked 
for them for many years. They educated me. 
They taught me to read. I learned how to teach 
the Indian people of the country around there, so 
that they could improve themselves. You can do 
the same, some day, if you wish to help your 
people. They need it. You do not understand it 
all now, Jolita, but some day you will.” 

In the weeks that followed Jolita became a val¬ 
uable help to the old man in their trips to the val¬ 
ley, and she learned to handle the orchid plants 
quite as deftly as he in preparing them for trans¬ 
portation. Miguel never allowed her to stay 
alone in the rooms. She always accompanied him 
on his trips and was never permitted to stray any 
distance from him. At first she rebelled, but he 
convinced her of the wisdom of caution. In the 
jungle one never knew what might happen. 

The time drew near for their departure. 
Miguel wished to get some specimens of orchids 
growing near the mound place and they planned 
to make that their last trip. Jolita was curious to 
see if her treasures were still where she had left 
them. 

“ Pablo found a lot of odd things around that 
place, Miguel, little images that looked like birds 


The Earthquake 


153 


and animals and were made of a kind of hard 
mud. There were several that were yellowish in 
color and made sweet sounds when I shook them. 
I left them in a little hole in the wall around the 
top of the mound.’’ 

“The yellow ones are gold, Jolita, and they are 
worth money. I have found many of them. The 
white men whom I guided found some too, and 
took them away with them. I have saved all of 
mine. The man at the Mission who takes my 
orchids will buy the images any time.” 

“Then mine will bring me some money, won’t 
they ? I do need a dress, Miguel. This one is all 
in rags now. Perhaps we can find some more 
images. There is surely one in that pit that I 
fell into, for I picked one up and then dropped 
it. Could we look for it*?” 

“Perhaps. We will see.” 

They started early, in the cool hours of the 
morning, for their final orchid hunt. Maria was 
left behind, tied safely inside Miguel’s latticed 
cage, wdiere no harm could come to her during 
the few hours of their absence. Pablo was also 
shut in, much to his disgust. 

It was a rough trail, but Jolita trotted along 
behind Miguel, indifferent to the lashing of 
branches and the snags in the path, on which she 


154 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


often painfully stubbed her toes. Her mind was 
full of happy anticipation for the morrow. They 
soon reached familiar ground, the places where 
Jolita had had so many thrilling adventures. 

They came to the clearing where the ruined 
basin stood and the girl directed the Indian’s 
attention to it, recalling her encounter with the 
ants. Beyond it was the memorable pit. 

“Tell me, Miguel,” asked Jolita timidly, as 
they walked toward the pit, “why were you so 
cross with me when I fell in there? You looked 
down at me so angrily. Why were you so angry ? 
I could not understand it. I could not help fall¬ 
ing into the pit. ’ ’ 

“It was a dangerous place for a small child to 
be exploring alone. I knew you were a long 
way from home and I wanted to frighten you so 
that you would go away and not come back again. 
I was hunting orchids around there and did not 
want you there to bother me. I saw you fall into 
the pit. I watched you and would have pulled 
you out before the ants came, but you got yourself 
out by the merest chance. 

“Now let us see,” he said, as they reached the 
pit, “I believe I’ll search this place before we go 
on for the orchids. We might find something 
worth while.” 


The Earthquake 


155 


He stooped down and tried to push aside the 
tilted slab that partially covered the pit. It was 
too heavy to lift, but it swung slightly up and 
down. Miguel peered through the opening. 

“A small place for me to squeeze under!” he 
remarked. “I wonder what jarred that slab out 
of place. It might have been an earthquake. 
This was probably a burial chamber. I have 
found many of them and they nearly all had 
pottery or images in them.” 

He slipped through the aperture and dropped 
out of sight in the dusky interior. Jolita stood 
waiting beside the pit, her eyes as usual studying 
the surroundings. A running fight between two 
little lizards, just back of where she stood, at¬ 
tracted her attention and she stepped back a few 
paces to watch them. 

Suddenly the ground rumbled under her feet. 
There came a heaving motion to the earth and 
Jolita was thrown down on her hands and knees. 

“Terre moto!” she shrieked. “Miguel, come 
out, quick! It is an earthquake —terre moto!” 

All around her the trees swayed violently, 
thrashing back and forth as though in a terrific 
tempest, although there was no wind. From the 
forest came the crash of falling trees and the 
crack of splitting limbs. As soon as she could 


156 


Jolita of the Jungh 


gain her feet, Jolita rushed to the pit. To her 
horror the slab had been thrown back into place 
by the motion of the ground and had settled down 
over the top like the tight-fitting lid of a box, 
sealing the chamber, with Miguel inside of it, a 
prisoner. 


CHAPTER IX 


RAMON 

T HE girl searched frantically for a hole or 
crevice under the slab that covered the pit, 
trying to find some way to pry up the heavy lid 
with a pole. She ran around and around the edge 
of the pit calling to Miguel. She wrung her 
hands in despair and wailed in anguish at this 
unbelievable and overwhelming misfortune. 

The earth tremors had ceased and an uncanny 
silence pervaded the place. Weeping bitterly, 
Jolita sank down beside the pit and rocked her¬ 
self back and forth in an abandon of grief. It 
was evident that alone she could not rescue 
Miguel. The cell was completely closed and not 
a sound came to her ears from its interior, al¬ 
though she called repeatedly and pounded on the 
top with a stick. In imagination she could see 
her friend lying senseless, eventually to die mis¬ 
erably of starvation if she could do nothing for 
him. 

In this disastrous situation the thought of 
Ramon came to her. Ramon! Would it be pos¬ 
sible for her to go to the settlement and find the 
157 


158 


Jolita of the Jungl* 


boy without encountering his father? Would 
Ramon be willing to come back with her and lib¬ 
erate? Miguel ? It was a desperate hope, but she 
could think of no other alternative. 

She knew perfectly well what would happen to 
her should she meet Manuel Mendoza. Migue] 
had warned her many times. There would be no 
Mission for her, ever, probably, and no hope for 
the future. 

A cold fear seized her at the thought of going 
again within reach of Mendoza’s pitiless abuse. 
But here was Miguel, struck down and helpless. 
His failure to answer her signals in any way 
indicated serious injury, at the very least. He 
must be reached and rescued at any cost. It lay 
with her. If by great good luck she did find 
Ramon alone, she was almost sure he would help 
her. She recalled his many little kindnesses dur¬ 
ing her unhappy life at the settlement. 

Suddenly she remembered Maria and Pablo 
shut in at the rooms. She started to run in that 
direction with the idea of liberating them, then 
checked herself and stopped. It would take too 
much time. It was a long distance to the settle¬ 
ment and even if she found Ramon and they 
came back at once, they could not make it before 
the middle of the afternoon. What were the lives 


Ramon 


159 


of a burro and a parrot—even her beloved Pablo 
—compared with that of her good friend to 
whom she owed so much? 

The tears were running down her cheeks as she 
turned and started for the settlement. As she 
passed the familiar carved boulder and ran in the 
direction of the great snake stone, she became 
aware of a change in the latter’s position. The 
earth tremor had tipped it far to one side and it 
lay grotesquely askew, with some of its broad 
foundation of stone blocks split and upturned in 
the jungle growth. Jolita skirted it with cau¬ 
tion. She reached the mound and passed it with 
a fleeting thought for her treasures left in the 
crevice on the platform. She might never see 
them again. But nothing mattered now, except 
the task of bringing aid to Miguel—if only she 
could accomplish it. 

There was no trace left of her former trail 
through the wilderness, but she turned uner¬ 
ringly after reaching the little stream. Through 
the silent forest she swiftly made her way. Mile 
after mile she pushed tirelessly ahead until she 
came within a short distance of the settlement. 
Here she threw herself down under the shelter of 
a big tree to rest for a few minutes while she sum¬ 
moned up her courage for the supreme test of her 


160 


Jolita of the Jungh 


effort. Her brown eyes, wide with fear and ap¬ 
prehension, searched the wooded stretches in the 
direction of the village, dreading the possible 
appearance of a brutal, dark face and a huge, 
lumbering body that would mean the destruction 
of her hopes. 

Presently she rose to her feet and crept for¬ 
ward like a furtive little forest animal, step by 
step, toward the little cluster of houses. She 
could hear now occasional sounds of human 
activities, the shout of a child, the beat of an axe, 
and she crouched under cover of the underbrush, 
afraid, almost, to move, lest she should betray 
her presence. Her scarlet dress, she realized, 
was a menace to her in its conspicuous color. She 
began to strip it down to her waist when a stick 
cracked behind her and Ramon strode into sight, 
coming along the trail with a string of fish and a 
pole in his hands. 

With a quick look about her Jolita rose to her 
feet and called softly. 

“Ramon! S-s-st! Ramon!” 

The boy stopped instantly and stared about 
him. His eyes caught the wave of the girl’s hand 
and the glint of her red dress. He stood in petri¬ 
fied amazement for a moment and then ran to¬ 
ward her with exclamations of astonishment. 


Ramon 


161 


‘ ‘ Jolita! Where have you—how came you— ? ’ ’ 
“Sh-sh!” cautioned Jolita, “quiet, for pity’s 
sake! Sit down here, Ramon, just a minute and 
I will tell you all about it. Listen. ” 

Into the boy’s astonished ears the girl poured 
her story in a torrent of words that told of her 
adventures, of her life with the old Indian and 
his kindness to her, of her hopes for the future 
and the calamity that had befallen Miguel. Ra¬ 
mon listened without comment, his eyes fixed on 
Jolita’s face, down which the tears were stream¬ 
ing with the passion of her words. Varying emo¬ 
tions played over the boy’s features as she talked. 
Unbelieving suspicion at first was succeeded by 
wonderment, as he watched her and heard her 
story. Her appeal in Miguel’s behalf did not 
bring the response she had hoped for. Ramon’s 
memory of Miguel was not altogether pleasant 
and the bush boy’s face darkened. 

“Let him get himself out,” he began harshly, 
when a loud shout interrupted their conversation 
and Manuel Mendoza stood before them. Jolita 
jumped to her feet in an attempt to escape, but 
the man caught her before she had gone three 
paces. 

“Well,” he snarled, shaking her roughly back 
and forth, “where have you been all this time, 


162 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


and what are you and Ramon talking about? 
Answer me, where have you been?” 

But Jolita was beyond speech. She drooped 
like an injured bird in the grip of a cat. Her 
eyes were closed and her arms hung limp. 

“Take hold of her, Ramon,” ordered his 
father. Together they dragged the girl back to 
the Mendoza hut, where she was thrown in a 
corner to recover herself. Ramon walked away 
from the house without comment and flung him¬ 
self down on the adjacent river hank, where he 
sat for a long time staring moodily at the rippling 
water. 

The night shadows were beginning to darken 
the forest when Ramon returned to the hut. The 
chicken corral in the rear of the house, Jolita’s 
former sleeping-quarters, had been reinforced 
with a strip of wire netting and the door was 
fastened from the outside. Ramon could see the 
figure of the girl inside, huddled in the hammock 
in an attitude of hopeless grief. After finishing 
his supper the boy busied himself among the 
boats on the river bank until darkness sent the 
family to bed. 

Jolita lay awake hour after hour, softly be¬ 
moaning her crushing misfortune. She was in 
despair at the thought of having been unable to 


Ramon 


163 


rescue Miguel from almost certain death. 
Equally distressing to her was the realization 
that she had left the helpless burro and parrot to 
starve. She passionately blamed herself for al¬ 
lowing Mendoza to come upon her unawares. It 
was all her fault. She should have been more 
careful. 

The sky had begun to show a gray tinge when 
Jolita, lying sleepless, heard a light scratching 
upon the side of the corral near the head of the 
hammock. She sat up suddenly, listening intently 
and scarcely daring to breathe. Was it an 
animal trying to get inside ? Presently the sound 
was repeated and a light whisper reached her 
ears. 

“ Jolita!” 

Who could it be but Ramon ? It must be 
Ramon! 

“Yes,” she breathed in answer, tensely await¬ 
ing a further message. A faint hope crept into 
her heart and she clasped her hands in a ferment 
of excitement. She slipped noiselessly from the 
hammock and crept to the bamboo wall of the 
enclosure. 

She heard slight sounds from outside as the 
door-fastening was untied. The wire netting 
across the opening was stealthily bent back. 


164 


Jolita of the Jungh 


“Come,” she heard whispered, “make no 
noise!” 

Her outstretched hand was grasped in the 
semi-darkness and she was led slowly and cau¬ 
tiously past the sleeping household out into the 
mist-wreathed jungle. The sky was now a soft 
gray above the tree tops and the shadows that 
wrapped the forest were growing thin before the 
advancing light of the new day. 

Assuring herself that her liberator was indeed 
Ramon, Jolita followed him quietly and the two 
children stole through the silent wilderness like 
furtive little ghosts. Nothing was said by either 
of them until they had progressed beyond the 
possibility of pursuit. Jolita was wise enough to 
keep silent until her companion chose to explain 
his action, although her heart was bursting with 
j oy and relief. She trotted along behind Ramon, 
glowing with speechless happiness. Presently he 
paused and turned to her. 

“I have made up my mind to go with you, 
Jolita,” he said earnestly, “and to help you all I 
can. I believe you are telling the truth about the 
Indian, although it is a strange story. We will 
try our best to get Miguel out of the pit; perhaps 
we can lift the slab together. If we find him un¬ 
injured and able to travel, I shall ask him to let 


Ramon 


165 


me go with you to the Mission. If we cannot 
get him out—that would be bad,” he said slowly, 
“it would, indeed. But you shall not go back to 
the settlement. My father is a cruel man. I 
know that. It has been hard to get along with 
him, always, and now that I have helped you to 
get away, he will make me suffer—he will. So 
I am not going back. 

“If Miguel will not take me to the Mission, I 
will go somewhere and find work. I am strong. 
There are plantations where they hire men; I’m 
sure I can find work in some place. And you, 
Jolita, if Miguel has perished, you will be alone.” 

They started on again in single file along the 
trail. The time was quickly passing and they 
had a long distance yet to go. 

“It will be better for us to keep together, in 
that case,” continued Ramon, leading the way. 
“We will get the burro—” 

“And Pablo,” interrupted Jolita. 

‘‘And the parrot, yes,’’ assented Ramon. “We 
will have the gun and I have my machete. You 
know the trail down into that valley. If we keep 
going we can find a way out, I am sure. There is 
nothing else for us to do, as far as I can see. 
There is always fruit to eat, and with the gun we 
can manage, I believe. I can take care of you,” 


166 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


he declared manfully. “ Anyway, it will be bet¬ 
ter than to go back to the settlement. We ’ll hope 
Miguel is not hurt, but if the worst has happened, 
I think we could find our way to the Mission. ” 

To all Ramon’s plans in her behalf Jolita 
gladly gave her approval. She was so dazed with 
the sudden change in circumstances that she had 
little to say. It all seemed too good to be true. 
The great fact that thrilled her was that she was 
hurrying with help for Miguel and every minute 
of delay wrung her tender heart. She realized 
but dimly what Ramon was offering to do for her 
in case she needed him. The main thing was to 
get hack to the pit where Miguel might at this 
very minute be suffering the agony of death. 
The thought of that exceeded all others and her 
feet flew tirelessly over the ground. 

They reached the turning point at the little 
stream shortly before noon and rested a few mo¬ 
ments in the cool of its shady banks, but Jolita 
was restless and anxious and they soon started on. 
The girl led the way into the clearing past the 
mound and pressed forward toward the leaning 
snake-stone. Ramon followed close behind with 
his knife in his hand. His eyes were big with 
amazement as they rested on the great, carved 
head that lay slantwise in the undergrowth of 


Ramon 


167 


the jungle. Suddenly the boy uttered a cry and 
pointed ahead. Jolita echoed it and stood still, 
staring incredulously at a human figure that was 
coming slowly toward them. It was the Indian. 

“Miguel!” gasped Jolita. “It is Miguel, in 
truth.” She ran toward him with a glad cry of 
relief as he raised his hand in silent greeting. 

“Oh, how did you ever get out of the 
pit, Miguel? Tell me, tell me, how did you get 
out ? And you have been hurt—your head—it is 
cut! O Miguel, I was so terrified! I could not 
hear a sound from you after the cover fell. I 
called and called. And I could not move the slab, 
although I tried so hard. And then I was afraid 
you’d die and I had to go for help. And Ramon, 
here, came with me to try and get you out—he 
came for that, Miguel—” 

“Jolita, child, wait—wait!” remonstrated the 
Indian gently, stemming the tide of her excited 
speech. “Listen and let me explain. I thought 
likely you had gone to the settlement. But I 
doubted if you would be able to return again.” 

He looked at Ramon with grave scrutiny. 

“You came to help me?” he asked quietly. 

The boy nodded silently, his serious eyes fixed 
upon the Indian’s face. 

“It was good of you, Ramon,” continued the 


168 


Jolita of the Jungle 


Indian. “I did not expect that. It has been a 
narrow escape for Jolita and for me. The earth¬ 
quake yesterday nearly cost me my life.” 

“We felt it at the settlement,” said Ramon, 
“but it did no damage.” 

“When I felt the first rumble,” said Miguel, 
“I sprang for the opening to get out of the pit 
and was just in time to receive a heavy blow from 
that solid slab on the top of my head. It knocked 
me senseless and I do not know how long I lay 
there at the bottom of the pit. It must have been 
several hours,” he said, rubbing his bruised head 
ruefully. “It was a terrible blow and I still feel 
the pain of it. After I recovered my senses I be¬ 
came aware of a current of fresh air from an 
opening in another end of the pit, and I could 
also see a dim light. I managed to crawl on my 
hands and knees some distance underground. 
The chamber extended to another room and the 
earth tremor had opened a crack in its roof 
through which I finally made my way out. 

“By that time it was growing dark. I called 
and searched all about, but there was no sign of 
Jolita. Poor little Jolita! ’ ’ 

The old man smoothed the child’s head affec¬ 
tionately. 

“I was in great distress about her when I got 


Ramon 


169 


back to the rooms and still found no trace of her. 
There was nothing for me to do but wait for day¬ 
light. I suffered much with the pain in my head 
and my anxiety about Jolita. I thought it all 
over and decided that she must have gone back to 
the settlement, and I was now on my way there, 
Ramon, to ask your father to let me take her to 
the Mission—if I had found her at your home. 
Your father really has no claim to her and was 
not kind to her when she was there before.” 

“It’s a good thing you did not see my father,” 
declared Ramon; “he never would have let you 
take her. That is certain. He tied Jolita in 
the chicken corral. I let her out. I could not 
stay there any longer. Jolita told me about the 
Mission. Will you let me go there with you 9 I 
am not happy in my home. I am tired of the 
life in the bush and I want to learn about some of 
the things that Jolita has been telling me.” 

The Indian silently regarded the boy for sev¬ 
eral moments. Here was a new problem and he 
pondered it. He recognized the innate yearning 
of the boy for better things and his kindly nature 
sympathized with it. But there were risks to 
consider. 

‘ ‘ I shall have to think it over, Ramon, ’ ’ he said. 
“It is a serious business. You may walk with us 


170 


Jolita of the Jungle 


to our camping-place, a short distance from here. 
I will give you my decision as soon as I can. I 
shall not forget that you came here to help me 
and that you have been good to little Jolita.” 

In her joy and relief at the happy termination 
of her troubles Jolita danced and laughed in high 
spirits, running back and forth along the trail, 
whistling to the birds and frolicking about like a 
playful kitten. She showed Ramon the astonish¬ 
ing, carved stones, especially the huge, round 
boulder with the strange pictures cut on its rough 
surface, enjoying to the utmost his open-mouthed 
wonder at them. She told him all about the great 
statues and stone temples down in the valley. 
where she and Miguel had been so many times fo! 
orchids. Her tongue rattled incessantly and Ra¬ 
mon listened with responsive interest as they 
traveled through the forest and climbed the steps 
leading to the rooms. 

Here there was a joyful reunion with Pablo 
and Maria, whom Jolita greeted with many 
caresses and expressions of affection. 

“I packed everything in readiness for leaving 
to-morrow. Whether I found Jolita or not I had 
to go, as I have some valuable orchids in the bags 
that must be delivered. Now, in regard to you, 
Ramon,” said the Indian, seating himself on the 


Ramon 


171 


bamboo couch, “you are about eleven years old, I 
think. ’ ’ The boy nodded without speaking. His 
dark eyes anxiously watched the old man’s face. 

“I cannot feel that I have any right to take 
you away from your people, even though you are 
unhappy there.” 

“I know of boys smaller than I who have left 
their homes to work on plantations. I am old 
enough to decide for myself. My father has other 
sons besides myself. I will not go back.” 

“Ramon,” said the Indian gently, “would you 
make more trouble for Jolita and me? Your 
father would have a claim on me if I took you 
with us. It is different with Jolita. But he 
could make much trouble for me on your account. 
I advise you to go back to your home for the pres¬ 
ent and make the best of it. I may return in the 
spring to this place, alone. If you wish to come 
and see me then I may know of some opportunity 
for you. Your father might even consent to let 
you go to the Mission, if I bring word that they 
will take you.” 

The boy shook his head. 

“He will be furious with me for helping Jolita 
to get away. I ’ll get a beating, if I go back. But 
I’m used to it. We’re all used to it,” he laughed 
bitterly. “My brother Juan and I have often 


172 


Jolita of the Jungi< 


spoken of running away from home when father 
beat us. I’ll find some place soon, to get 
work, even if I can’t go with you.” He turned 
forlornly to the door. “I’d better be on my way. 
Good-by, Jolita—” 

“Poor Ramon, I’m so sorry,” murmured the 
girl, running to him and taking his hand. “I 
shall never forget your kindness. You will come 
to the Mission before long. Of that I am sure.” 
The tears brimmed her eyes and overflowed as the 
boy suddenly stooped and kissed her on the cheek, 
raised his hand in farewell to the Indian and 
strode through the door. 

As Ramon disappeared down the steps Miguel 
turned to Jolita and laid his hand on her 
shoulder. 

“Poor ninita, you have suffered, I know! But 
we will try to forget it all and think only of the 
future and the kind people whom you will find at 
the Mission. I have still a few things to do be¬ 
fore we leave. We will start early in the 
morning.” 

He went to one of the stone rings set in the 
inner wall of the roofless room,, grasped it and 
turned it slightly. A little door opened, disclos¬ 
ing a small closet. Jolita watched him with 
great interest. 


Ramon 


173 



Ancient Mayan Frog Ornament 


“Did you make that hole in the wall?” she 
asked. 

“No. That was made there when the house 
was built—who can tell when?” 

From within the closet Miguel took a small 
cloth bag that appeared heavy when lifted. 

“I want you to see this, Jolita, in case anything 
should happen to me before we reach the Mis¬ 
sion. These would be of help to you. ’ ’ 

He opened the bag and revealed a store of little 
curios similar to those that Pablo, the parrot, 
found at the mound. He took out a number of 
them and showed them to her. 

Jolita exclaimed with delight. 

“Many of these are quite valuable,” said 
Miguel. “I have picked them up from time to 
time. Some of them came from places like that 





Incense Saucer 


Ornamented Bell 




Figurene 


Fragment of Picture-writing 


Trinkets Found in the Burns 









Ramon 


175 


unlucky pit into which you fell and that nearly 
finished me. There were probably many others 
there besides the little image that you found and 
dropped. I have taken several bags of these to 
the Mission and they have sold them for me and 
are keeping the money for the time when I may 
buy a little piece of land and raise coffee.’’ 

He showed her an odd little object in the form 
of a frog. 

“See! This is made of gold; and so are these 
beads and this little fish, and the monkey. This 
little monkey is made like a cup, you see; the long 
tail is curled around to make a handle by which 
it may be held. Here is an eagle with spreading 
wings; there is a hole through it. Look. It was 
probably used as an ornament to wear around 
the neck.” 

“Just think of these beautiful little things 
lying around on the ground and in these ruins 
and no one caring enough about them to come 
and get them!” said Jolita. 

“They might care for them,” said Miguel 
dryly, “but they haven’t the courage to travel 
through these dangerous jungles to find them. 
And so they lie there, left by the people who made 
them. When the heaviest rains come, no one 
can go there, not even I. The wise men think the 


176 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


rains are heavier now and the conditions more 
dangerous to people nowadays than at the time 
when those ancient tribes lived there. Perhaps 
the place will always be as it is now, a deserted 
wilderness fit only for wild creatures to live in. 
It may be that those people of long ago became 
wicked in their ways, with all their gold and their 
wonderful cities, and so the good God punished 
them and cut them off, to be forgotten until their 
stones and buildings were dug out of the jungle. 
We do not know. It may be so.” 

They were busily engaged in clearing up the 
rooms when suddenly Ramon appeared at the 
door. The perspiration streamed from his face; 
his clothes were torn nearly to ribbons and he 
trembled so that he could scarcely speak. 

44 Miguel,” he gasped, “they are coming to kill 
you!” 


CHAPTER X 


THE UNDERGROUND PASSAGE 

J OLITA burst into a wail of terror and sank 
to her knees. 

“O Ramon!” she cried. “Oh, what has hap¬ 
pened?” 

“You must go,” he said breathlessly, “go 
quickly! My father—and two of the men—from 
the settlement—have followed our trail—Jolita’s 
and mine. They will be here in a few minutes. 
Hurry—hurry! You will be no match for them, 
Miguel. It is useless for you to try to oppose 
them. They will take Jolita. I went as far as 
the stream and heard them talking as they rested 
there a few moments. They did not see me. I 
hid and listened. They said they would kill you 
if you tried to prevent them from taking Jolita. 
I ran back as fast as I could to tell you. Our trail 
is fresh, you see, and Pedro Montez, who is one of 
them, can follow a trail anywhere that is fresh. 
But it is getting late in the afternoon and if you 
go immediately, they cannot follow you far. If 
they catch you, Miguel, you won’t have a chance 
and we shall all suffer. I can stand it, but J olita 
177 


178 Jolita of the Jungle 

can’t. So you must leave here quickly. I will 
help you.” 

Jolita wept aloud. 

“O Miguel, Miguel! I am the cause of it all! 
Why cannot they let me alone*?” 

The Indian’s jaw set grimly. “ You were use¬ 
ful to them; that is why they want you. But they 
shall not have you.” 

He strode to the back of the room and paused 
before the last row of carved stone rings set in 
the ancient wall. He grasped the device with his 
two hands and twisted it to one side. It rolled 
easily around, carrying with it a portion of the 
wall that pivoted from the inner side. He 
stepped into the aperture with the confidence of 
familiarity and pushed back another portion 
that swung similarly on the other side of the 
opening. A rush of cool air surged into the 
room. Jolita gasped. 

“What is that, Miguel?” she asked in amaze¬ 
ment. 

“This is the entrance to the tunnel that con¬ 
nects this row of buildings with that place down 
in the valley—you remember I told you about it 1 
It is not very long and it is quite safe—at least it 
was a short time ago, unless the earthquake has 
damaged it, which we will hope it did not!” he 


179 


The Underground Passage 

added fervently. “You shall come with us, Ra¬ 
mon, if you wish to, for to-night. We shall have 
to camp at the lower end. It will be too late to 
go any farther, but there will be no danger of 
pursuit. In the morning I will show you the re¬ 
turn trail. Jolita and I will go on. Now, quick! 
Help me take the orchid bags down those steps! 
Jolita, you can carry that little bundle of torches. 
We shall need them all.” 

He shouldered one of the bags of orchids and 
disappeared through the mysterious doorway. 
In a few moments he was back. Under his direc¬ 
tions Ramon busied himself and the place was 
soon cleared of their few effects. Miguel un¬ 
tethered the burro and led her to the opening. 
The little animal braced her feet and balked 
obstinately with her long ears pointed inquir¬ 
ingly toward the current of damp air that blew in 
her face. 

“Come, Maria,” chirruped Miguel, “come on; 
will you come, then ? Ramon, you’ll have to help 
me get Maria down these steps. Jolita, get the 
parrot and come quickly. We are all ready.” 

But Maria had no intention of starting on a 
doubtful journey that began with a dark, unfa¬ 
miliar passage. She absolutely refused to budge 
when they tried to push her down the stairs. 


180 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


“She doesn’t like the looks of it any more than 
I do,” whispered Jolita to herself, peering down 
the short flight of steps that led to another wind¬ 
ing flight. A flickering torch lying on the stone 
floor of the passage below made a dim light to 
guide their footsteps. 

“Oh, this stupid animal!” exclaimed Miguel 
anxiously. “She will delay us too long!” 

Pushes from the rear, persuasive talk and all 
efforts failed to move Maria. She objected to the 
expedition. 

There was no time to lose. Finally, as a last 
resort, Miguel took his serape from his shoulders 
and wrapped it around the burro’s head, covering 
her eyes so that she could not see. 

“Now push, children, and I will pull.” 

By their united efforts the stubborn Maria was 
made to descend the steps to the floor of the pas¬ 
sageway. 

“Stand here and hold her, while I go back and 
close the door,” said Miguel, hurrying back up 
the steps. He was gone but a moment. 

“Now we are safe,” he said in a relieved tone. 
4 6 They never can find that opening. I only found 
it myself by accident months ago. Little did I 
dream what it would do for me.” 

The orchid bags and a few bundles were 


The Underground Passag( 


181 


packed on Maria’s back. Miguel lifted Jolita to 
the top of them, handed the gun to Ramon to 
carry, took the torch himself and leading the now 
docile burro, started the procession on its way. 

“It is better that you walk behind us, Ramon. 
You might step on something with your bare feet. 
I have my thick sandals. ’ ’ 

Although he spoke in low tones the echoes were 
terrifying. Every word that was spoken rever¬ 
berated back and forth as though repeated by in¬ 
visible hosts. Jolita at first was panic-stricken. 
She had never heard echoes before and she could 
not understand it until Miguel explained. The 
torch afforded but a dim, uncertain light as they 
walked slowly along. 

Suddenly the girl gave a smothered shriek and 
clapped her hands to the back of her neck, then 
relaxed and laughed. 

“Oh, that gave me such a fright!” she ex¬ 
claimed hysterically. “I thought it was a snake, 
or a long, cold lizard slipping down my back, but 
it was only a drip of water from the roof!” 

The Indian’s stern face broke into a smile and 
he chuckled softly. 

“See!” he held the torch high over his head. 
The girl and the boy gazed upward and saw that 
the whole tessellated ceiling glistened with damp- 


182 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


ness and was studded with huge, slimy, creeping 
things, great snails with waving horns, enormous, 
fat slugs and wriggling creatures of the dark, 
among which a wavelike movement began as the 
light struck them. 

The passage was wide enough to accommodate 
a cavalcade of burros. The floor was slippery 
with slime, making it necessary to proceed very 
slowly. Glimpses of strange, scurrying little 
shapes underfoot struck silent terror to the girl’s 
heart, but she hit her lips and made no sound. 
Miguel walked with great care, now and then 
striking at some menacing object revealed by the 
torch. 

“Watch your steps, Ramon,” he said, after 
they had advanced some distance. “Keep close 
to the burro. I do not think there is danger. The 
gun will protect us if anything serious happens. 
I hope, however, that we will not have to fire it, 
as the noise might be heard outside. Look at the 
pictures on these walls.” 

Indistinctly they could see chiseled designs and 
inscriptions on the rounded walls of the passage¬ 
way. A border of entwined serpents decorated 
the upper part. 

Below this were figures of men with animal 
heads, alternating with strange carved emblems 


The Underground Passag< 


153 



Border of Entwined Serpents 


cut deep into the surface of the masonry. 

Ramon exclaimed in wonder. 

4 4 1 never knew there was any such place as this 
around here,” he said, staring about him in 
amazement. 

“O Ramon,” said Jolita, “you should see 
what there is down in this valley! It is wonder¬ 
ful, wonderful!” 

As they approached the lower part of the tun¬ 
nel the character of the structure changed. It 
broadened into wide chambers with sculptured 
walls and elaborately wrought ornamentation. 
The ceiling and sides were covered with carvings 
of turtles, serpents, tigers and other animals, 
surrounded with flowering-vine designs. Al¬ 
though apparently of great age their beauty and 
clearness was unimpaired either by moisture or 
other defacement. 

“It is a wonder that the earthquakes, coming 










184 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


so often in this region, have not damaged this 
tunnel more,” said Miguel. “They knew how to 
build in those times. The knowledge passed with 
them.” 

The little group came to a halt before an 
enormous, towering stone image that stood out 
from the wall. In the faint light of the sputtering 
torch it loomed above them weirdly in the form 
of a serpent of gigantic size, its mouth half open, 
the head and curved neck covered with a coating 
of wonderfully carved feathers. 

“The snake stone!” exclaimed Jolita in a 
hushed voice. “ It’s a good deal like the one back 
there by the mound. Why did they put one in 
here?” 

“This must have been an underground 
temple, or something of that sort,” replied 
Miguel. “The wise men said the ancient people 
called that image ‘Kukulcan,’* which means 
4 feathered snake.’ They believed it had mar¬ 
velous power that influenced their lives.” 

They stood in silence, gazing in awe at the 
strange object. Ramon seemed robbed of the 


* Kukulcan was the ‘ 1 plumed ’ * serpent, an image worshipped by 
the ancient Mayans as their most powerful god. It was sculptured 
by them in a number of different serpent-forms distinguished by the 
feather scales. 



The Feathered Snake 


























186 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


power of speech and Miguel’s dark eyes burned 
inscrutably as he studied the image. Jolita did 
not understand what Miguel meant by his long 
words, but like many things he said that she did 
not comprehend, she stored them away in her 
wise little head for future explanation. 

The ornamented chambers narrowed to the 
width of the tunnel again and soon they came to 
the end of it. Darkness had fallen in the jungle 
outside and they prepared to spend the night 
where they were, within the shelter of the tunnel. 
Comfortless as it was, it was better than the open 
jungle and afforded them protection from the 
heavy night mists. 

As daylight approached their fitful slumbers 
were disturbed by the ingress of countless bats 
that streamed into the tunnel for daytime sleep 
within its dark recesses. The flapping, squeak¬ 
ing multitudes, seeking roosting-places, hastened 
the departure of the refugees, who struggled out 
from the piles of broken masonry and vine 
tangles at the end of the tunnel in the graying 
dawn. They pulled and pushed the bewildered 
burro over the obstructions and made their way 
with difficulty through the mazes of the jungle, 
until they came to their familiar trail leading 
down into the valley. 



“ Countless Bats Streamed into the Tunnel” 








188 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


The early mists were still heavy over the 
forest as the little party stood like gray ghosts 
huddled together, their eyes searching the 
vicinity. Miguel walked back up the trail for 
some distance, listening for sounds from possible 
pursuers. In a few moments he returned. 

“I hear nothing,” he said. “I believe we are 
safe and can travel without fear, now. Ramon, ” 
turning to the boy who stood dejectedly awaiting 
his dismissal. “I have been thinking over your 
case. I believe I will let you go with us as far as 
Comolapa, where I have a friend. I think he will 
allow you to stay with him if I ask him. About 
this time he is making fresh clearings for sowing 
his maize and I am sure he will give you work. 
Come now. It is time for us to start.” 

“O Miguel!” cried Jolita, clapping her hands, 
“I am so glad you will take Ramon! I am so 
glad! I could not bear to think of what awaited 
him at home. His father will be so angry at him. 
I wanted to ask you to do this—but I did not wish 
to worry you. Ramon, are you not glad too?” 

Tears glistened in Ramon’s eyes. He said 
nothing, but nodded his head vigorously after 
one grateful glance at the Indian’s kindly face. 

They traveled in silence for some time until 
the mists lifted and the reddening sky foretold 


189 


The Underground Passage 

the coming of the sun. After passing the grim 
guardian of the gray temple they turned sharply 
to the left and in another hour left the lowlands 
behind. Far ahead loomed purple mountain 
peaks and the valley was succeeded by a rolling 
country. A hot sun now rode in the sky and the 
burro’s pace lessened as they slowly climbed to 
wooded ridges. 

The trail wound interminably up hill and 
down. The heat increased momentarily and 
Maria indicated plainly that she thought it was 
time to stop. Presently the Indian led them to 
the top of a shaded knoll and removed the packs 
that were swung over the burro’s sturdy gray 
back. She was watered at a little spring near by 
and was given a bundle of fresh grass to nibble 
at. 

Miguel took some fruit and cooked beans in a 
small calabash from one of the panniers and 
divided them equally. After finishing their 
simple repast, they rested under the trees to 
await the passing of the noonday heat. Jolita sat 
quietly, her hands in her lap, thinking of the oc¬ 
currences of the past month. Her old, carefree 
life of jungle wandering was over. She was 
“growing up.” New interests, new experiences 
lay before her. She smiled affectionately at the 




190 Jolita of the Jungle 

old Indian lying asleep, wrapped in his serape 
and unconscious of her gaze. He had been most 
kind to her. She would try in the future to re¬ 
pay him for it, and for the friendly spirit he had 
shown toward Ramon. Poor Ramon! He had 
longed for something better than the bush life 
and she was so happy to have been able to help 
him get it. 

Their journey took them over increasingly 
hilly country and before night they reached the 
smoky little village of Comolapa where Miguel 
was well known. Here Ramon found the work 
that he sought with a farmer who was clearing 
his land for fresh milpas, and Miguel and Jo¬ 
lita left him there, happy m the thought of hav¬ 
ing attained his independence. 

Two more nights the travelers spent in vil¬ 
lages on their way, where the girl was an object 
of curiosity, with her red hair and her tattered, 
abbreviated garment. Miguel bargained with an 
Indian woman of his acquaintance and bought 
Jolita a huipile, or waist, embroidered in na¬ 
tive fashion. To her it was a tiling of beauty, a 
marvel of handiwork. It relieved her of the em¬ 
barrassment of her worn-out jungle dress and 
she slipped it over her head with gratitude. 

The third day they climbed the last hill to the 


191 


The Underground Passage 

Mission. Jolita liad now grown accustomed to 
meeting other travelers on the road. At first she 
had suffered from excessive shyness and had kept 
her head wrapped in Miguel’s serape from under 
which she peeped at the strangers like a little 
frightened creature. But soon she became ac¬ 
customed to the new conditions and, as the} 7 came 
to the more settled regions, they passed continu¬ 
ous streams of people coming and going through 
the little towns. They met Indians driving pigs 
and sheep, with whom Miguel often stopped to 
chat. Women carrying heavy baskets and babies 
on their hips toiled along the dusty roads and 
Jolita soon learned to exchange timid greetings 
with them as they passed. 

The approach to the Mission was through a 
long and lovely garden which the girl regarded 
with astonishment. She had never seen anything 
like it before. A man came through the arched 
door of the plastered house that was set at the 
hack of the garden. The little group coming up 
the path caught his eye and he stopped to inspect 
it. The barefooted girl, with her scarlet dress, 
her gaily embroidered waist, her singularly 
bright, fuzzy hair and the green parrot nestled in 
her neck, was a striking figure. 

‘ ‘ Why, it’s Miguel! ” he exclaimed, then turned 


192 


Jolita of the Jungl< 


and called: “Mother, mother, come out! Here’s 
Miguel and he’s brought some one with him.” 

There was a general exodus from the house 
and the travelers were surrounded by a welcom¬ 
ing group who plied them with questions in re¬ 
gard to their experiences and their trip back to 
the Mission. Jolita was an object of great in¬ 
terest and her story was received with kindly 
consideration. 

“Of course we’ll take her,” said the gentle 
mother, whose sweet smile quite won Jolita’s 
heart. 

“May I keep Pablo with me?” asked Jolita 
timidly. 

“You surely shall, dear,” was the answer. 

“And—and sometime you will let Ramon come 
here, and learn of the things Miguel has told us ? 
Ramon is a good boy. I know he is good—” 

4 4 Ramon ? Who is Ramon ? ’ ’ 

“I will explain about Ramon later,” said 
Miguel with a quiet smile. 

“Come inside now, Jolita, and I will show you 
where you are to sleep. You must be very tired. 
Mary!” called the mother, putting her arm 
around the bush girl and walking toward the 
house, as a young woman appeared in the door¬ 
way and smiled at the group. 


The Underground Passage 


193 


“This is Jolita, who has come to live with us. 
Miguel has brought her, three days’ travel from 
the heart of the jungle. She seems a dear child, 
and I am sure we shall love her. ’’ 

Jolita looked up at the girl and her face lit 
with delighted surprise. 

“Oh!” she said, with a little thrill in her voice, 
ii you have red hair —like mine! And it is pretty! 
I have always hated mine because it made much 
trouble for me. But now I shall not hate it any 
more. I shall love you—I shall love everybody 
here, and especially good Miguel who brought me 
to this place.” 


PRONOUNCING AND DEFINING VOCABULARY 


CHAPTER I 

Jolita—pronounced Ho-lee'-ta. 

Pablo—Pab'-lo. 

Adios—pronounced ad-ee'-os. 

Ramon Mendoza—pronounced Ra-mone' 
Men-doe'-za. 

Tomagoff—pronounced tom'-a-goff. 
CHAPTER II 

Lianas—pronounced lee-arn'-ers. Creeper 
vines of the jungle. 

Bastante—pronounced bas-tarn'-tay. 
Enough. That will do. 

’Guana—local pronunciation of Iguana, 
a large lizard. Pronounced ig-warn'-er. 

Pablo mio—pronounced mee'-o. Mine. 

The Campanero Bird—pronounced cam- 
pan-air'-ro. 

Que tal—pronounced kay-tarl'. How’s 
that? 

CHAPTER III 

Tigre—pronounced tee'-gruh. Tiger, or 
jaguar. 

Jaguar—pronounced jag'-war. 

Toucan—pronounced too'-can. Big- 
nosed jungle bird. 

Machete—pronounced ma-chetty'. 

Jungle knife. 

Yampi—pronounced yam'py. A root 
vegetable resembling the potato. 

Calabash—pronounced calla'-bash. A 
species of gourd. 

Cayuca—pronounced ky-yoo'-ca. The 
native canoe made of a hollowed-out 
tree-trunk. 

Armadillo—pronounced arma-dil'-lo. A 
small shell-backed animal of the tropics. 

CHAPTER IV 

Kiskadis—pronounced lcis-ka'-dis. A 
jungle bird. 

Orchid—pronounced or'-kid. 

Miguel—pronounced Mig-gell'. 

Huichol—pronounced Wee'-chol. A tribe 
of southern Mexico Indians. 

Nina—pronounced neen'-ya. Little girl. 

CHAPTER V 

Kapoke tree—pronounced ka-poke'. The 
cotton-pod tree of the tropics. 


Tortillas—pronounced tor-tee'-yas. A 
thin, crispy cake made of corn meal. 

Frijoles—pronounced free-hole'-ais. Brown 
beans. 

Cecropias—pronounced see-cro'-pias. A 
tropical bush with white branches and 
broad leaves with a curious, upturned 
habit of growth resembling huge 
candelabra. 


CHAPTER VI 

Guarumo—pronounced gwar-room'-o. A 
local name for a low-growing, medicinal 
plant with healing qualities. 


CHAPTER VII 

Gueria—pronounced gerry'-ar. A local 
name for the orchid Tricopelia Suavis. 

Pinole—pronounced peen-o'-ly. A native 
food similar to tortillas. 

Amarte—pronounced a-mar'-tay. A 

tropical tree. 


CHAPTER VIII 

Jejen—pronounced hay'-en. A species of 
stinging gnats. 

Rey Papa Mosa—pronounced ray papa 
mo'-sa. A rare little jungle bird. 

Pueblo—pronounced pw'ay'-blo. An In¬ 
dian settlement. 

Shaman—pronounced shay'-man. A chief 
or priest. 

Terre Moto—pronounced terra-mo'-to. 
Earthquake. 


CHAPTER X 

Ninita—pronounced nin-yee'-ta. Tiny 
little girl. 

Serape—pronounced ser-rarp'-pay. In¬ 
dian cloak or broad scarf. 

Kukulcan—pronounced koo-kool-can'. 
The feathered serpent-god of the 
ancient Mayan people. 

Comolapa—pronounced ko-mo-larpa'. A 
Central American town. 

Milpas—pronounced meel'-pas. Crops. 

Huipile—pronounced wee'-pil-lay. A 
garment w r orn by women in Central 
America, made of a straight piece of 
cloth with a circle cut in the middle to 
slip over the head. These garments are 
often very beautifully embroidered. 


194 























































































